


Heroes

by malu (orphan_account)



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: AU, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3341354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/malu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Of course, the dogs were born into their profession much like he was. Not really a choice for a shepherd’s son, coming from a village of shepherds, hidden in a remote mountain valley.</em>
</p><p>Sergio's life takes its predestined path as a shepherd in remote mountains, until he stumbles over a severely wounded resistance fighter whose beauty and charme turn Sergio's world upside down. The two men spend the summer of their lifetime together, but autumn and with it Sergio's return to his village, wife and kid, is approaching mercilessly.</p><p>
  <em>Though nothing, will keep us together</em><br/>
<em>We could steal time,</em><br/>
<em>just for one day</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: Not real! Just playing!**  
>  Help, I can't stop writing Sernando.  
> Regarding the AU-setting: I won't mention a specific country/time/war, because I don't feel like doing history research and I don't really want to do a moral analysis. I just liked the general picture and I hope you won't mind the vague-ness regarding these things.  
> Other than that, I really, really hope you'll enjoy! *nerves*  
> And as usual, feedback is so appreciated and makes my day and also updates appear quicker usually and I will love you forever for it ♥

It’s going to rain soon. Sergio can sense these things; smell them, just like his ancestors could. Walking up the steep path, eyes always on the dogs that are running around the sheep in circles that only seem meaningless and random to outsiders, but that indeed are the most beautiful, perfect collaboration Sergio could imagine. Of course, the dogs were born into their profession much like he was. Not really a choice for a shepherd’s son, coming from a village of shepherds, hidden in a remote mountain valley. School was a distant memory, nobody here went there for more than a few years; reading, writing and basic mathematics more than enough to get by. Skills like reading the weather, sensing when a sheep was about to give birth, knowing how to make the most of the milk and cheese, those were what they needed to get by. And maybe also the ability to survive in solitude, because growing up a shepherd meant you’d spend your summers mostly depending on your own, sheep and dogs your sole companions. 

Sergio has mastered all these skills, soaked them up from his grandfather and father and now he is perfectly capable of taking care of the flock over the summer. It isn’t easy, not on him and neither on his wife, Pilar, who stays behind in the village, taking care of the small farm, the bit of land and their son. With a shake of his head, he chases away the thoughts, knowing they’re too hurtful, too distracting. In the distance, one of the dogs catches his attention, the animal deviating from its normal path, running in small, nervous circles now and barking for attention. Maybe a hurt lamb? Though Sergio hasn’t seen any of them stray there. Confused, he makes his way to where the dog is making its alert, hand on the knife in his belt. Because lately, the occasional resistance fighter had been sighted here, the army having forced them up into the less accessible parts of the mountains. Politics make Sergio’s head hurt. For the people here in the mountains, the war is a distant occurrence, the outcome not of any interest. It won’t change their lives, they’ve long stopped listening to promises and adapted to a sort of poor but, in their own ways, at least free and independent lifestyle. 

When he has almost reached the dog, his grip on his knife tightens as his eyes fall on the slumped body in the grass. He gets closer and frowns, shaking his head in anger and frustration. This one is barely a man, looking almost like a boy. He can hardly be older than Sergio himself, possibly he’s even younger. It’s no age to be wasted to war that will only cause more suffering and more oppression. He looks in a bad state, completely wrecked, just a small, shivering heap in dirty, bloodstained clothes. Pale skin, dirty, messy blond hair - and freckles. He has freckles everywhere, something Sergio has never quite seen on a man of their age before. And he sees the wretched figure and lets go of the knife, somehow anticipating he won’t need it.

***

 _Damned dog. Damned, damned dog._ Fernando pulls his arms closer around his knees, a ridiculous attempt to make himself smaller. As if there was any way to hide, here on the grass. He’s shivering, but not from fear he thinks determinedly, just from the cold and the damp ground. Maybe a bit from the pain that is encasing his entire body, every bone and muscle aching. They’d beaten him, tortured him, trying to get the names of his compatriots out. Then there’d been an attack and they’d fled, leaving him to die. He has tried to save himself, as stupid as it sounds, because these are remote mountains and even if he’d reached one of the villages, chances the inhabitants would have killed him without second thought were high. It’s dangerous for the villagers to give refuge to resistance fighters like him, rumors say the army has killed and burned entire little communities only for one hidden fighter discovered in one of the poor huts. Nevertheless, he tried to get away from the woods, to some place where he could find help, hoping for that tiny chance to meet up with the remains of his cell.

But he had collapsed here, on a meager mountain pasture, with nothing left to hide behind. And where there’s a barking dog, there’ll also be a shepherd. Ironic, how he survived the soldiers' torments only to end up killed by a shepherd. Fernando snorts, hearing careful footsteps approach him and he buries his head in his arms. Hopefully, it will at least be quick. This time, all he wants for it is to be quick. At least, the dog is finally silent. He tries to have some clear last thoughts, recalls once more Olalla’s sweet face, looking at him full of affection, back in the easy days and he listens to the birds and inhales the scent of the grass, thinking that it’s a pity he wasn’t born as a simple shepherd.

”Oh dammit.” He hears the exasperated huff, coming from very close by and grits his teeth, as ready for the end as he can be.

”Stupid war,” the gruff voice says and without any understanding, completely confused and overwhelmed, Fernando feels two strong arms pick him up from ground, shouldering him and carrying him away.

”Let’s hope we get you through.”

It must be a dream, Fernando thinks to himself before he feels the first drops of light rain on his head and then passes out from exhaustion, because in reality, these miracles don’t happen.

_We're nothing, and nothing will help us_   
_Maybe we're lying,_   
_then you better not stay_   
_But we could be safer,_   
_just for one day_


	2. Wounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and kudossing and commenting! It makes all the difference and this wouldn't be here without your feedback and support ♥

He’s not very heavy. Probably not well fed, Sergio ponders, balancing the dead weight on his shoulder. In his chest, his heart is hammering and thundering relentlessly, but not from the exhaustion. It’s an irrational fear that makes him break into sweat, fear that the man he’s never seen before could actually die on him. Normally, as a country boy in a poor surrounding with a never ending war raging around, he’s grown up to see death and accept it as a part of life. He’s seen people die. In the most cruel ways. Yet, he’s totally terrified that it could happen to this man that he doesn’t even know. Just, the second his eyes had met the scared pools of dark brown, blinking up at him with fear, pain and confusion, he’d felt a sting that went through his entire body. He tries to shake off the thoughts, but they won’t go away. Something about the man is deeply fascinating him.

Sergio hasn’t checked the kind of injuries the man has, but he’s not blind. The blood soaked shirt, the tight rope around his wrists, dark bruises and chafed skin underneath, the bruises in his face and the tell-tale mark of a cigarette burn on his bare forearm. Those aren’t really war wounds; Sergio thinks, those are signs of torture. And the thought alone is enough to make him feel sick, the atrocities of this whole useless feud feeling so pointless and the lives of men like the one on his shoulder being wasted to a demonic cause.

The dogs seem to be sensing that something is off, watching him nervously as he takes the route back to his tent. It’s too early to return, but he has a mission to accomplish and if he wants to stand a chance at putting the wrecked pieces he’s carrying back together, he needs to get to the tent and the creek. With the animals obeying him without second-guessing, he continues his route, the soft rain slowly draining him. It’s amazing, he thinks, the trust these dogs have in his judgment. They’re brought up to listen, to follow orders and in return they’re fed and groomed. As simple as that. The soldiers and resistance fighters, how different their goals might be, are a bit like the dogs, trained to follow orders blindly, not questioning their superior’s decision, all in exchange for food. And maybe the feeling of fighting for a cause that’s worth it. At least, that is what Sergio imagines it should be like. With the wrecked body on his shoulder, he doubts any cause is truly worth it.

His thoughts trail off, image of the man’s face, that looks so much like a boy’s face, back in front of his eyes. He is beautiful, without a doubt, the pale skin with the freckles unusual but flawless except from the dark bruises and traces of blood on his jaw and forehead, the eyes dark and pure, shining even under the worst conditions. Even the messy and soiled streaks of blonde hair still look gorgeous. _I’m walking around marveling another man._ The realization strikes Sergio a bit like lightning, prompting him to shake his head in disbelief. _That solitude in these mountains sure does strange things to my head._ He’s flooded with relief when he reaches the creek, final meters passed in stride.

”Okay, buddy, let’s get you clean.”

He carefully lowers him to the ground, positioning his back against a larger rock so that he’s sitting upright. The eyes, those beautiful eyes – and Sergio scolds himself internally for not being capable of stopping this ridiculous admiration – blink open slowly and his stomach flips when he sees the fear in them, the boy scrambling around and obviously trying to shield himself from Sergio.

”Hey, it’s okay, I just… you understand me, right?”

For a moment, it occurs to Sergio that he might not even be from here, but he nods, eyes still widened, but arms beginning to relax.

”Listen, I just want to get you cleaned up and check how bad you are, okay?”

Another nod, tentative, but a nod. Nevertheless, when Sergio approaches him and takes his knife, he tries to jump up, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. And Sergio, again, scolds himself, because he should have known that the sight of him walking over there with the knife in his hand wouldn’t be trust-building.

”Hey, hey,” he says, voice trembling, “I just wanted to cut those.”

He points at the ropes around his wrists and follows the movement of the man’s eyes, staring at his own wrists in disbelief, apparently not even remembering that his hands are tied. _How long have they had you?_

This time, he stays seated, eyes wary and breathing shallow, but his body stays in place and Sergio kneels down next to him, finally getting rid of the offending restraints. It’s not a conscious decision when the shepherd now takes the young man’s hands into his own, fingers rubbing gentle circles over the abused skin, eyes watching his own actions with fascination.

***

His heart is still thundering and he knows his breath is hitching, but he feels a sort of calmness spreading through his body while he watches him. Watches the dark-haired man kneel in front of him, massaging his wrists and hands with tenderness. The calloused fingers move over his cuts and scrapes so gently, it’s actually giving Fernando gooseflesh. And it painfully reminds him how long it’s been since anyone has touched him to do anything else but hurt him.

He still doesn’t understand where the other man’s kindness comes from. Most of the villagers and shepherds have become wary of both, soldiers and resistance, and Fernando doesn’t blame them. The horrendous stories about soldiers torturing innocent villagers just because a resistance fighter has – without their knowledge – spent the night in one of their stables. Or the stories of so-called resistance troops looting villages for food. Fernando’s stomach flips, the thoughts and facts still difficult for him to bear. Because it’s hard when you’re young and full of ideals and ready to defend them, only to find out how utterly pointless they are. When you find that the heroes you were looking up to betray any vision you ever had for a better future. He briefly shakes his head, trying to chase away the regret and hurt. No point to bother now, it’s not as if he could change the past.

”You need to drink.”

The other’s voice wakes him from his philosophical thinking and he realizes, with a hint of disappointment, that the massage has stopped. He takes the flask of water that is held out to him and realizes that he really is thirsty. The water hurts his dried lips but it’s also wonderful balm for his throat. Taking occasional, small sips, not capable to fully open his mouth, he watches the man who is sitting across from him. A shepherd, obviously. Poor, probably. Because they all are. Dumb, that’s what his parents called them. And many of his compatriots, most from rich, academic households, said the same. But Fernando doesn’t agree and this man certainly is all but dumb. His eyes, dark and a bit mysterious, simply sparkle with attention, focus, intelligence. And in all the cruelty, he’s the first kind spirit Fernando has met in months. Not questioning, not second-guessing, just ready to help and share. And the man cannot be expecting anything in return, because in his current state, dirty and broken, Fernando certainly doesn’t look like he has anything to offer.

His eyes cast down the man’s body, broad shoulders under a thick pullover that’s slowly soaking from the rain, legs clad in used, worn out jeans, heavy boots. It’s nothing unusual by itself, but it makes for a breathtaking combination on the man. He has dark long hair, framing a tanned face, skin slightly worn from being outside constantly. Gorgeous, Fernando thinks – and then wondering how and why and since when he looks at men this way. But he doesn’t, he realizes, he only looks at this man in this way. While he is still drinking, the other starts fidgeting with some tobacco, preparing a cigarette with skilled and probably long-practiced movements. His fingers are slender and long, calloused and dirty from their hard work, but nonetheless beautiful.

”Want a drag?”

He’s holding the lit cigarette out to Fernando and the fighter takes it gratefully, returning the empty bottle. He inhales greedily and returns it, his fingers brushing the other man’s, skin tingling from the touch. His eyes follow the thin grey lines in the misty air until a movement from the other catches his attention.

”Okay, let’s get you checked. I’m sure you’ll need cleaning and some dressings.”

Fernando nods absentmindedly, eyes glued to the way the muscles flex under the other man’s pullover. He walks towards the small tent at their side and returns with a cloth and some dressings. Fernando stares at them questioningly, unsure why he’d have any in that tiny tent.

”I’m prepared. I mean, the sheep hurt themselves, too, at times,” he mumbles, obviously having anticipated the fighter’s unspoken question. “You’ll have to take off your shirt though.” 

The shepherd says it almost apologetically and quickly turns away, wetting the cloth in the water of the creek. Fernando blushes. Not that he has any problem undressing; he understands the necessity and is starting to trust the other. But he cannot do it, because the pain in his joints keeps him from raising his arms far enough. And that is quite embarrassing. Yet, the shepherd again seems to sense his struggle when he turns around and sees him sitting there in his misery. And instead of making any fuss, he just takes his knife and cuts the fabric. 

”I’ll give you one of mine. That one’s done with anyway.”

_So help me heal these wounds,_   
_They've been open for way too long._   
_Help me fill this soul,_   
_Even though this is not your fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Good Charlotte


	3. No Harm Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the sweet feedback until here and please keep letting me know what you think! I love writing this but I'm also horribly self-conscious and your opinion matters so much ♥

He sheds the destroyed shirt and moves to take a closer look at the other’s torso, finding it covered in bruises, all colors from yellow to dark purple. Sergio bites his lip, partly with anger, feeling the irrational desire to track down the bastards who did this and hurt them in the same way. Partly, he has to bite down for another reason. Because even with the bruises and the blood from some cuts on his chest, the other looks absolutely breathtaking. His muscles are lean and well defined, showing under the smooth skin that’s tanned on the few areas where it’s not bruised. Broad shoulders, arms stronger than he expected. And freckles, he really has freckles everywhere.

When he notices that the fighter is shivering in the cool rain, he hurries to start washing him, noticing the way he’s gritting his teeth, the touch obviously painful for him. And Sergio keeps biting his lip, hard enough to draw blood and very afraid to say something completely inappropriate. Also, he might feel his cock twitch. Which is even less appropriate. And, Sergio reminds himself with growing despair, it’s a man he’s looking at and touching. A man. He doesn’t get hard over seeing naked men. Although his body is doing its best to prove him wrong on that one right now. Maybe when he is done with his chest and moves to the back it will be better. Sergio grits his teeth now as well and hurries to get a last scratch on the other’s stomach clean before he walks around him.

_Shit. Dear goodness. What kind of bastards were you with?_ Sergio freezes, eyes glued to the back that is covered in a number of bad cuts, obviously caused by a whip. With tears dwelling up in his eyes, he counts twelve marks. And he knows he will have to clean them, because he’ll get an infection from the sweat and dirt that’s already in there and he also knows he will hurt him like hell and he hates himself for what he will have to do. Taking a deep breath, he braces himself. While he takes care of the tormented skin, wiping off dried blood and sand, some of the wounds opening and beginning to bleed again, he cannot believe how tough the man in front of him is. He might look like a boy, and a very shy one at that, but the way he is sitting there, completely motionless, back straight and not a sound coming from his mouth is impressive. The only sign for his discomfort is the way his breathing becomes shallow and his muscles tense under Sergio’s hands. _God, you’re brave._

***

His fingers dig into his thighs sharply, maybe even drawing more blood, but anything that distracts him from the pain on his back is welcome now. Through gritted teeth, he releases a breath he’s been holding and he feels cold sweat on his forehead, mixing with the drizzle and his eyes are watery, too – and not from the rain at all. But in front of this man, he doesn’t want to give in, doesn’t want to look even weaker than he did already after he had to carry him here. He wants to keep a last bit of pride without really knowing why it matters anymore. There’s one good thing about the pain, he reckons, his eyes fixed on the clear water of the creek, streaming by in random patterns, twirling around the scattered rocks. The pain has at least made his beginning erection fade again. And that could have become even more embarrassing than a few tears shed over the painful treatment of his wounds. But the way the shepherd had been kneeling between his legs, hands wiping over his chest, the gentle way he is touching him… it’s been too much and his cock had taken rapid interest. _Maybe it’s just been too long._ But Fernando knows that’s not it. He’s been away from Olalla, only among men, for longer times before. He’s seen good-looking, well-trained soldiers or fellow compatriots naked in showers or while changing. And never has anyone ever caused a reaction similar to this. Never has a man made his breath hitch or his skin tingle, covered in gooseflesh, leave alone made his cock twitch. Never until today. And a small moan escapes his lips at the memory of the earlier touch on his wrists, despite the agonizing pain on his back and he can only hope that the other man will misread it as a sound of distress.

”Okay. I think you’re clean. And the rain is getting heavier, so we should move inside the tent before and get you warm.”

A wave of relief floods Fernando. He throws a glance at the sheep, scattered over the grass, the dogs lying flat on the ground, ears on alert. It’s astonishing how they’re trained, how they obey. The shepherd doesn’t have to say a single thing when he moves inside the small tent. Fernando follows him, walking troubling him and when he climbs inside with another small moan, his eyes meet the other man’s, expression of concern on his face.

”You okay?”

Fernando nods as good as he can, determined to keep up the façade for a bit longer and looks around, everything tiny, both of them crouched on a mat. There’s a crumpled sleeping back in a corner and a huge backpack, probably food reserves for the way up to his hut. Fernando wonders where and how he refills his stack.

”Turn around.”

He blinks at the other in confusion for a moment, then sees the dressings in his hand and obeys.

His hands are warm against the cold skin of Fernando’s back and he’s still being so damned gentle that it almost hurts, almost brings tears to the fighter’s eyes.

”Here, put this on, you have to get warm.”

Fernando turns around to find the other holding a hoodie out to him. He takes it gratefully, only now noticing how much he is shivering and then he turns bright red, because his shoulders and arms still hurt so much that he won’t get it on. The other stares at him, puzzled, but then, reads him like an open book again and wordlessly assists him. The fabric feels soft, worn against his skin and it smells of a mix of detergent and the other man.

”You need dry jeans, too,” the man mumbles, evading his gaze and Fernando thinks, he’s blushing, too.

With a small nod, Fernando surrenders to his fate and lets the other help him into a pair of sweatpants that he’s pulled out of the backpack. Fernando can’t look at him right now, everything too embarrassing, especially since he has no underwear. And possibly is half-hard. But if the other noticed anything, he’s polite enough not to mention it. Fernando crouches himself into a little heap in the farthest corner or the tent – though even that only gives them a ridiculous half meter of a gap – and wraps his arms around his legs, head on his knees, eyes on the ground, staring at the thin grey mat that looks clean but well used. He hears some rustling and breathes in the other man’s scent that’s still lingering in the hoodie. He is barefoot now, the other having taken his shoes away and he’s still cold, but he feels sort of clean. Cleaner than he has ever since they caught him. After a while, he dares to lift his head, eyes on the other man’s back. He’s taken off his shirt and is rummaging around and even in the damp light of the tent, Fernando clearly sees his tanned skin and the way the muscles move underneath and it looks so hot, so tempting, that he has to bite down on his lip once again.

***

”You need dry clothes, too.”

Sergio jerks around at the sound. It’s the first time the other has said a word and his voice sends a shiver down Sergio’s spine, so soft and clear. He nods and holds up a T-Shirt.

”Yeah, I know, I know.” He slides into it, eyes on the other man, their gazes locked. There’s something strange in the air, tense. Sergio swallows hard. “What’s your name?”

It surprises him that the question only occurs to him now, but then there had been more important things until now, where they’re both crouching in a too small tent, Sergio feeling dizzy over the other man’s smell so close to him and overwhelmed with the desire to wrap himself around him. _It’s been too long. It’s just been too long._ But he’s not even kidding himself, because it’s not as if this was his first summer away from Pilar. And so far, he’s managed that without jumping at random strangers, nor has he seduced other shepherds or the shop owner during one of his rare visits to one of higher located farms to refill his food supplies. But this man, he’s different and Sergio doesn’t really dare to ask himself why.

”Fernando. I’m Fernando. What’s your name?”

”Sergio.” _Why is my voice hoarse?_

”You need dry pants.”

Sergio looks down at his legs, the damp spots from the rain and yes, it’s cold and uncomfortable. But…

”I-,” he blushes, “I don’t have any more.”

There’s a moment of silence, the other man’s eyes wandering down to his pants and then Sergio sees him starting to fidget with the waistband.

”Don’t you dare,” he says, giving the other a stern look.

”You could climb into the sleeping bag at least,” the other is barely whispering and staring at the ground.

”Certainly not. You’re taking that.”

”But you will freeze tonight and-“

”It’s not night yet.”

”But it will be. And-“ the other pauses, coughs and he’s still staring at the ground when he continues, his cheeks adorably pink, “we’re both grown up, right? We could just share?”

And how do you reject that offer without giving away that you’re secretly in some strange, inexplicable way attracted to him? Sergio eyes the ground intently, rummaging his brain for words and losing against the task. Wordlessly, he grabs some bread out of his bag for them and then unfolds his sleeping bag, opening it for them with a nervous chuckle and wriggling out of his soaked pants, wearing boxers and T-Shirt only now.

”Okay, you’re right. We’ll be okay.”

_Or you’ll run away screaming when you notice what you’re doing to me._

With some rustling, fidgeting and a lot of awkward excuses mumbled, they settle in the confined space, Fernando basically sitting between his legs now, the blanket pulled up over their chests. It’s nice to have him so close, Sergio thinks, at the same time willing his cock to stay where it is.

”Hungry?”

He rips the bread in half, holding up one piece.

”Yes. Thank you.” Fernando is whispering again, head hanging slightly.

It’s a shame he cannot see the beautiful eyes anymore with the way they’re sitting. Sergio sighs and starts eating and they both chew in silence, the noise of the rain against the tent the only sound around them. 

***

It’s difficult to stay awake, with his stomach a bit filled for the first time in a couple of days and with the even sound of raindrops and the comfortable heat that’s enveloping his body. Fernando tries to keep his eyes open, but his head keeps sinking back, coming to rest against Sergio’s shoulder. Against his back he feels Sergio’s chest heaving evenly and after a while, his eyelids fluttered closed again, he notices how Sergio’s fingers start drawing those little patterns on his wrists again. Maybe he thought Fernando was already asleep and wouldn’t notice? And why is he doing it at all? Fernando decides not to question it too much though, because it feels so good, so tender and he is loving this delicate moment too much to ruin it by opening his mouth or eyes.

When he has almost drifted away, he hears Sergio’s voice, whispering into his hair and he couldn’t say with certainty whether it’s real or already a dream.

”Don’t worry, I’ll look after you know. Nothing’s going to harm you anymore.”

_Crumble like ashes away from the fire_   
_I'm here to catch you and hold you a while_   
_I'll just hold you a while_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Lenka


	4. Sun Comes Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ♥ You're the most amazing readers I could with for and your feedback always, always makes my day :D
> 
> I'm a bit worried that this is moving too slow, so pleease keep letting me know your thoughts!! Thank you so much!

Never in his life has Sergio felt so tested on his amount of self-restraint as he does right now. Cramped into the sleeping back, their bodies heating up nicely and to the point of becoming a bit sweaty, with the other man, no, Fernando, between his legs and very much against his crotch and chest, he feels like he is about to burst. It takes all his will and then some to avoid becoming rock hard. The atmosphere, warmth, the sound of the rain on the tent, the slow-falling darkness, the even way Fernando’s chest is heaving; it’s all made to lull him into sleep, but he is wide awake. When he should be thinking about Pilar and his son, he is actually sitting here and keeps thinking about the still unfamiliar and at the same time so very well understood man in his lap, wonders how he ended up in the war that Sergio doesn’t understand, wondering about his upbringing and his family, whether he is already married or not. From his voice, the lack of strong regional accent that Sergio’s own has, he guesses that Fernando must have had a rather urban, probably academic upbringing and Sergio cannot help feeling inferior. What could a well-educated and courageous resistance activist see in a simple shepherd?

Only then Sergio realizes what way his thoughts have been taking, actually considering… well, what? A relationship between the two of them? He shakes his head in disbelief, lectures of priests and parents in his ears, telling him how very unnatural it is for two men to be in love. And young Sergio never doubted that fact, never spend a single moment contemplating another man, didn’t even engage in the obscene plays and contests some of his male friends would engage in during their teenage years. Sergio is a honest man, a faithful husband, a devout Christian. And the weight of the small necklace, the one with the ring and the cross, it feels leaden, at least twice of its usual weight.

***

With Sergio’s touch on his wrists and the other man’s heartbeat vibrating through his body, Fernando feels as safe as a child in his mother’s arms. The feeling is overwhelming, having spent months in terror, especially the last weeks being a never ending row of horrible occurrences. He’s seen people die and it’s been even worse to hear people die, the animalistic screams and cries things he’ll never get out of his head. His own torments have been unbearable, the degradation often worse than the actual pain, but hearing his comrades beg for mercy and later only release strangled, desperate cries, without being able to help them, that has been the worst punishment. Because Fernando, at the bottom of his heart, is compassionate. He gets attached to people. Even in the darkest hours of the war, he could never forget that those around them are human beings and the guilt he will have to carry after some of his actions has long begun to weigh him down. There have been moments during his captivity, where he thought he didn’t deserve better, where the thought of being tortured to death seemed like salvation for his previous crimes.

He didn’t die though, through some strange miracle he was the last they kept alive. The one who got away. And an even stranger miracle has sent him Sergio, a shepherd and probably the only shepherd in the entire mountains who, instead of breaking his neck, took him to his tent, shared his food and tended his wounds. Fernando doesn’t believe in God. His parents raised him to believe in himself and the power of money, spirituality had no place at his home. Yet, Sergio has been sent to him like a guardian angel. A beautiful angel, Fernando quietly acknowledges. He knows that it is not appropriate to think of another man like this, to be sitting here, craving the closeness, wanting nothing more than turning around and press his lips against those full, red lips, wrap his hands around the strong neck, run his fingers through the thick, black hair. Fernando shivers and bites his lip, needing a moment to calm his breathing and will his cock to obey. It feels like he’s under the other’s spell, like all the values and morals he’s become so very accustomed to, that kept him, even during war times, from joining in any of the filthy game some of his compatriots would engage in for release. Fernando has only ever jerked off secretly, by himself, with a picture of Olalla in his head – and now he’s sitting here, in another man’s lap and Olalla suddenly vanishes.

***

At some point, he must have drifted away and when Sergio wakes back up, it’s actually beginning to dawn outside already. For a few peaceful moments, lingering between sleep and wake, he doesn’t comprehend his surroundings and only feels the warmth of another human body next to him, lying pliantly against him and instinctively, Sergio wraps himself closer around the sleeping form, buries his head in the blond hair and breathes in the scent, a mix of Sergio’s detergent and the man’s musky skin. With his brain still mostly sleeping, his fingers subconsciously slide under the other’s shirt and trace over smooth skin and firm muscles. The whole world is perfect and comes to an almost complete halt – until a noise from the dogs outside wakes him completely and he realizes what he’s doing. He almost jumps, but because of the sleeping bag around them, he cannot really get away. In front of him, Fernando is beginning to stir and Sergio suddenly feels very hot, his face in flames and he notices something between his legs that just can’t happen right now. Scrambling desperately, he tries to free himself, the blond man in front of him still half-asleep, blinking confusedly and Sergio finally has his legs out and runs.

Breathlessly, he leans against a near tree. With one arm against the trunk and his head buried, he uses frantic moves and without any further thoughts, brings himself to a painful climax. All the while, he is biting his lip to stifle the cry in his throat and praying that the other man doesn’t follow him to check what made him jump out like that. Finally, he pulls up his boxers and falls back first into the wet grass, still gasping for air. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before and the face he saw while leaning against that tree most definitely didn’t belong to Pilar. Shame crawls up through his veins, making his skin itch, his cheeks burn and his stomach flip. It takes a moment before he trusts his legs enough to carry him back to the tent, stopping at the creek to splash water on his face and then taking a moment to pet the dogs. He is just turning around when Fernando comes outside, movements slow and stiff, face in a grimace of pain. _Gorgeous._ It’s the only word Sergio remembers when the blond stands there, bare feet, clad in Sergio’s clothes, hair still dirty and messy and framing the most beautiful, flushed face he’s ever seen. And he drowns a little when their eyes meet, a little more with each second their gazes stay locked. In Fernando’s eyes, he sees some of his own surprise and disbelief mirrored and for an instant, he wonders how much of his crazy desire might be mutual, before he reminds himself of the impossibility of it all.

”Good morning,” Fernando says softly, tentative smile around his lips looking breathtaking.

***

”Hey, how are you feeling?”

”I don’t know. Better. But I couldn’t take off the shirt myself if I wanted to.”

Fernando shrugs, what else is there to say? He sure is in a fair bit of pain, but suddenly it seems worth it, because stepping out of that tent to look at this wonderful man, early rays of sun making his skin glow, dark hair framing a perfect face, that’s too good. In all its forbidden pleasure, it’s still simply perfect. Only that after getting up, the doubts are creeping in, because who knows how long Sergio will be putting up with him. Probably he will want to split paths as soon as possible. Fernando walks over to the creek, kneeling down with difficulty to wash his face. Behind him, he hears the rustling of the tent’s zipper and when he turns back around, Sergio is sitting in front of it, holding a cigarette. Fernando stares at him with uncertainty until he pats the grass next to him, wordless invitation accepted without second guessing when Fernando drops to the floor.

They share the cigarette in silence, each hanging after their own thoughts. Fernando cannot help the wistfulness seeping through him, because it feels like their goodbyes might be approaching.

”You sure you’re okay? You’re looking pretty sinister.”

Sergio sounds genuinely concerned and it sends a sting through Fernando’s guts.

”No. No, it’s okay. When are you moving up to your hut?”

Fernando assumes there is a hut. All the shepherds have these, right?

”I was going to do it today, actually.”

Fernando’s stomach twists and turns uncomfortably and he can’t really say anything now, so he just nods, tears prickling behind his closed eyes.

”I just… I think you’re not ready for the walk, so I guess we’ll wait at least until tomorrow. Not like anyone is waiting for me.”

There’s an insecure chuckle in Sergio’s voice through the last bit and Fernando sits there, frozen to the spot, incapable to grasp his own luck.

”We? You’re not leaving me here?”

He croaks after a while, voice hoarse.

”Leave you behind? No, I wasn’t going to. I don’t think you’re fit to go back to your…well, cell or whatever you call yourselves and I doubt you have a clue where to find them. So I guess I’ll just take you along, at least until you’re able to dress yourself again.”

_Maybe I’m still dreaming. Probably none of this is real… but it’s sure one of the best dreams I’ve ever had._

_Come with me I know you'll stay_   
_You'll wake up in the morning to a brand new day_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by John Legend
> 
> BTW: I have a tumblr (stripedsquirrel) and feel free to meet me there :) ♥


	5. Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in updates, last week was crazy :/   
> Thank you for all the sweet and encouraging feedback ♥ And please keep letting me know what you do (or don't) like about the story!  
> ♥

They continue smoking another cigarette, back in silence, hanging after their own thoughts, both staring at the creek. Sometimes, when they hand the cigarette back and forth, their fingers brush against each other and each time, the accidental touch sends a shiver down the shepherd’s spine. Wistfully, he wonders if the touches linger that little bit too long on purpose, but most likely, he’s just thinking too wishfully. Or Fernando is moving slower and clumsier than usual because his hands and arms hurt. Sergio cannot stop himself from throwing the occasional glance at the other man, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he looks pretty relieved about being allowed to stay. After all, Sergio is being reasonable, at least that’s what he tells himself, because there is no way you can send someone with an open, probably still bleeding back and pain everywhere, someone, who still cannot lift their arms up, out to go back to war. And if he doesn’t keep him here and make him better, he supposes that’s what the other is going to do. It might be what he has to do? Are you deserting when you leave guerilla groups? Or does that only apply to formal soldiers?

”Are you considered to be a deserter when you stay with me?”

The words just kind of blurt out of his mouth and Sergio cringes, hoping he hasn’t crossed a line here. After all, Fernando hasn’t exactly been willing to tell a lot about how he ended up here.

***

Fernando hesitates and feels his blood freeze. Not that he could have avoided the question forever, but he would have liked to ignore it just that tiny bit longer. Maybe sit here for a half a day without any thinking… allowing his mind to flee from the circumstances. But of course Sergio would wonder where he is coming from and how he ended up here in this state. Because there’s obviously more than just what’s visible and what the shepherd must have realized the moment he saw him. 

”Sorry, you don’t have to tell me anything if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

_You’re reading my thoughts, aren’t you? And how can you be so kind, so understanding? You’re offering to take me under your roof, under your wing and still won’t even insist on me explaining who I am and where I came from? Not even interested in what danger I might bring over you?_

”No, it’s okay, really,” Fernando says, then taking in a deep breath and trying to get his thundering heart under control, “I’m a deserter anyway, you know? I come from a family that’s very close to the government and it only seemed natural to join the armed forces and the war.”

He swallows hard and glances at Sergio, to his surprise finding the other looking not one bit repelled, only genuinely curious and interested.

”So, once I was at war, I realized that things weren’t the way I’d been told and I switched sides. I’m a sniper, so I was more than welcome on the other side. Only to find that things weren’t any better there and that most people who fight end up fighting only for themselves and not for the ideas that they should be defending. Then I got caught and the military would probably have killed me right away but they thought I knew where the rest of my group was which is why I somehow ended up in this state. And then the military camp came under attack and I could flee in the turmoil and ended up on that grass where you found me.”

Even if his life depended on it, Fernando could not explain why there are tears streaming down his face or why his body is suddenly shaking from head to toe. After a while of silence, when the irrational breakdown is fuelled by the fear that the things he told would scare off Sergio, prompt the other man to think of him as traitor or weak, he feels an arm around his shoulders. The touch is so gentle, heartbreakingly gentle, because just like during the night, it seems Sergio never forgets that most of his back is in pieces and Sergio always finds exactly those few spots on his lower back and shoulders, where Fernando can still lean, can still be held.

***

Sergio winces internally, wishing he could slap himself. He’s done a great job at making the other cry and what was he thinking, reminding him of anything that was connected to this game of terror that they call war. He wraps himself around the other man without thinking or second-guessing, feeling the blond head drop to his shoulder, tears creating a damp spot on the fabric of his Shirt. Eventually, he resorts to running his fingers through the messy hair.

”I admire you, you know?” He whispers, hand not stopping its movement.

Fernando’s eyes meet his and the fighter looks genuinely surprised and questioning.

”Well, I don’t think I’ve ever really had a vision or a goal worth fighting for,” Sergio says, voice shaky with insecurity, suddenly feeling very inferior next to the other, “I just did what life had in store for me, you know? No choices, no resistance. My dad was a shepherd, so I became one. Everybody married, so I married.”

”You support your family, you’re doing more good than I have ever done.”

”If everybody did this though, nothing would ever change, we wouldn’t advance. And even my slow shepherd’s head understands that somehow something should be different.” Sergio nods, his hand travelling down Fernando’s arm, avoiding the cigarette burn. “Even if I have no idea whether a war will get anyone anywhere.” He adds with a shrug.

”Me neither,” Fernando chuckles tentatively and Sergio feels flooded with relief, thinking they might make it back to less loaded topics now.

”Breakfast,” Sergio asks, noticing how hungry he is himself and wishing for the dark moment to be done with.

”Sounds good,” Fernando says and his voice sounds normal again, no trembling.

A quick glance confirms that the tears have stopped flowing. Sergio carefully disentangles himself, realizing that he’s indeed done it again. He’s taken advantage of the fighter’s weak state to draw him into some form of inappropriate touching and cuddling. And he still hasn’t even got his head around the question how or why or since when he craves another man’s touch. He wonders and ponders and thinks, but he doesn’t find a logical explanation for that burning desire in his veins that keeps telling him to get closer, ever so much closer to Fernando.

***

Fernando cannot help but feel a sting of disappointment rise in his body when Sergio crawls inside the tent. He liked being held, he liked the gentle touch and he feels cold and shivery, now that it’s gone. Sure, Sergio is a man and apparently married – though Fernando had mostly guessed that because of the ring on his chain anyway – and also most certainly not interested. But somehow, Fernando cannot help himself, cannot restrain himself. Whenever Sergio is near, he just wants to be close to him, closer than he should. He can count himself a lucky man that the shepherd willingly puts up with his antics, Fernando thinks, his cheeks hot when he thinks of his teary outburst. But even if his cravings are not meant to be fulfilled, he is glad about every hour he gets to share with the kind and gentle man.

Over breakfast, Fernando notices the concerned looks Sergio throws over the flock of sheep and eventually he offers that of course, they could leave today, that he would sure be fit enough. Sergio, of course, won’t hear any of it and tells him that tomorrow or the day after would be just as good. That way, they end up spending a very lazy day, Fernando dozing on and off, resting as Sergio tells him to and Sergio only doing the necessities, staying close to him most of the time. They don’t talk much and Fernando is grateful for that, still embarrassed about his earlier breakdown. When the night approaches, a clear one this time, Sergio makes them a fire and they sit under the stars for a while, marveling the night sky. Somehow, Fernando wonders, it’s very difficult to believe that it’s the same sky, the same stars that he had seen when he was still a captive, praying to die, hoping for relief. Suddenly, things were so different in his life, but that night sky was still the same.

And Fernando knows he shouldn’t feel that way, but when they turn in for the night and it seems to be wordlessly agreed that they share the only sleeping back again, he couldn’t be any happier. He might never have been happier in his life actually. It’s very late and they’ve been curled up against each other for a while already, when he feels the soft touch of a pair of lips against his forehead and he is not sure whether he is already dreaming or not, but he could swear that he hears a softly whispered ‘I’m so glad I found you’. And it makes him shiver, from head to toe, confuses him beyond limits, but it also makes him incredibly happy and content, prompting him to fall asleep with a smile on his face.

_Don't forget to pray_  
 _to keep it away_  
 _away from every day_  
 _where you wonder_ _why we can't be ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Soap & Skin


	6. Daylight and the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for all the encouragement and kind words! Your reassurance is what keeps me going ♥

He is the first to wake up the next morning again and of course, he wakes up with a hard on gain. Thus, Sergio scrambles and hurries out of the tent much like he did the day before, taking a deep breath of the cool morning air. Then, afraid Fernando could follow him outside and see his problem, he strips of his clothes and wades straight into the creek. The cold water sure does the job and eventually, he steps out, settling on the rocks nearby and waiting for the sun to dry him. It’s cool, but after the moment in the icy water, not too cool anymore and Sergio relaxes, eyes fixed on the mountains on the other side of the creek. It’s been barely two days and already, he cannot imagine a life without Fernando anymore. It’s absolutely crazy and totally ridiculous. He’s a grown man, a happy man, he’s always had all that he needed – how can a single moment, meeting just one person, turn his world upside down? After all, Sergio’s life has always been a steady one, a settled, solid existence. Poor maybe by some standards, but always enough to sustain. Hard work, yes, certainly, but always for a cause, with a purpose and with the knowledge of peace at the end of the day. Nothing unforeseen has happened in Sergio’s life before, nothing, not even a war, has managed to throw him off track. And now, he’s sitting here, watching the mountains with wistful eyes, images of last night replaying in his head. Holding Fernando, feeling the strong muscles of Fernando’s stomach under his hands, his nose Fernando’s hair, his lips against Fernando’s forehead. Yes, Sergio has kissed another man. A man, who is not a relative. And he kissed him. Just like that. Is that already considered a sin? Is it a sin that he’s sitting here, part of him dreaming about doing it again? Maybe even more than that peck on the forehead. Maybe wishing he could snuggle up against him like he does with Pilar, bury his nose in the crook of his neck, let his hands roam over the gorgeous body that’s all soft skin and toned muscles. Can something he feels be a sin? Or will it only become a sin when he acts on it? And when is it cheating?

***

Fernando wakes up alone and for a moment, he is disappointed. It would have been nice to wake up in Sergio’s arms. But then, he realizes what he’s wishing for and shakes his head. Being with another man like that, it’s not what he does. It’s not right, he tells himself, even if the feeling in his guts; the craving in his heart; tell him differently. He scans his body for pain, his back still hurting considerably but his shoulders and ribs feeling slightly better. Crawling out of the tent is a bit easier, too and he is about to get up and try to stretch his arms when he freezes in his movements, eyes glued to the incredible sight in front of him.

He just kneels in front of the tent and stares, straight at Sergio, who is sitting on a rock, face towards the mountains and a bit away from him so that he doesn’t notice Fernando staring quite yet. And it’s wrong, Fernando tells himself, to invade the other’s privacy like this, to watch him like this, but even if he wanted to, he couldn’t resist. Sergio is naked and glorious, early morning sun making his skin shine warm and golden, long black hair shining, little rivulets of water running out of and slowly making their way down over the ripples of muscle on his back and chest. And the profile of Sergio’s face, it’s so defined and so very strong and from the sidewise angle that Fernando is getting, it looks just perfect. Everything about him is perfect, broad and strong, muscular. And the way he’s staring towards those mountains, so lost in thoughts, so wistful, Fernando would give a lot to be let in, to learn what exactly he is pondering over. And then he realizes that he just licked his lips and has turned from morning half hard to rock hard. His cheeks heat up inevitably and he is still torn between making some sound to warn Sergio or climb back into the tent and jerk off like there’s no tomorrow, when the shepherd suddenly turns and sees him.

***

For the longest time, they just stare. Fernando is red as a tomato and judging by the hot feeling in his face, Sergio thinks he is, too. This couldn’t get much more awkward and if he’s spotted it correctly, the fighter’s pants are tented and then he scolds himself for even looking _there_ , especially as simply looking at him, the unruly blond streaks, the pink cheeks and the way he’s chewing on his lower lip, it makes Sergio have the same issue within an instant. Eventually, he says the first thing that comes to mind.

”The water is perfect, why don’t you get in, too?”

Fernando nods, shyly and a bit insecure, but he comes over and drops his pants, eyes on the floor. Sergio wills himself to look up at the fighter’s head.

”Let me help with the shirt.”

This invitation to basically go skinny dipping together, it’s the worst idea he’s had in a lifetime, Sergio thinks while he clumsily helps Fernando to lose the shirt, his fingers shaking and both of them determinedly staring somewhere over the water, as if there was anything interesting to see. They go in to the waist and Sergio sighs with relief, because the cold water certainly does the trick. Most of it anyway. Because now that the other man is here with him, pale, immaculate skin close up to him; he’s too mesmerized to fully lose his erection. But it fades a little. Which is a start, Sergio thinks. And the water is up to their waists and evading the sight of, well, _that_ is a bit easier now. They cannot go further. Or Sergio could, but Fernando shouldn’t with the dressings on his back and the numerous cuts and scratches all over his arms and chest and shoulders.

”You’re right, it feels pretty nice.”

Fernando’s voice comes out a bit hoarse and Sergio determinedly tells himself that’s just because of the morning. His necklace doubled its weight again, heavy reminder of everything that’s wrong with this situation.

”Yeah, I know. It’s a good way to wake you up.”

_And well, if my voice keeps sounding like a giddy teeny girl, guess who is going to give himself away like now?_

***

Fernando nods. It’s true, the cold water does wonder to wake him and even though Sergio has cleaned his wounds, this is also the first time he feels a bit cleaner after escaping from that filthy hell of a military camp. 

”Could you help me get my hair clean?”

_Damned. Sometimes I should keep my mouth shut. As if that matters._ But the thought is so tempting, a clean, fresh head. Maybe even a shave? And Sergio eyes him, unsure at first and then nodding and apparently, the shepherd understands, because he doesn’t even ask why the hell Fernando would want that. Instead, he just steps closer, putting his hand in Fernando’s neck, motioning for him to bend over a bit. Under Sergio’s hand, Fernando’s skin feels like it’s on fire and he sucks in a sharp breath, avoiding a shiver. Sergio uses his other hand to scoop water over Fernando’s head, very careful not to drip any on his back and he’s so very gentle. Once Fernando’s hair is dripping, Sergio’s fingers run through it and for a second, he thinks he will just collapse. His knees turn into pudding. His eyes have closed a long time ago and he focuses entirely on Sergio’s touch, the calloused but surprisingly gentle fingers rubbing over his head and face, running through his hair and rasping over his stubble. Fernando’s holds back a content sigh and does his best to keep his shaky body under control. He could always blame the cold for that – but it’s never going to explain his cock’s reaction to all this.

”I think you’re clean now… or cleaner at least?”

Sergio sounds a bit nervous and takes a step back and Fernando already misses his touch badly. Opening his eyes takes some effort and he blinks at Sergio, nodding.

”Yeah, sure. It feels so much better, so thank you.”

Asking for help shaving would be out of line… and lead to his cock running havoc, Fernando thinks and when Sergio turns, stepping out of the water, he follows. Around the shepherd’s neck, he sees the cross and ring, sparkling in the sun. He hates the sight, hates the reminder of how everything he wants is wrong and unavailable and he almost groans in frustration when he settles on one of the rocks, willing his erection to finally fade for good.

”Just stay put, I’ll fetch you something to dry yourself.”

Sergio’s makes his way to the tent and Fernando swallows hard, his eyes mesmerized by the naked back he’s getting to see. _This is so not going to end well._

_Ooh your dream_   
_Here on the water_   
_Warm the sand_   
_The seagulls calling_   
_Kissed by kindness_   
_You gave me this_   
_Your fire becomes a kiss_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Antony and The Johnsons


	7. La Chispa Adecuada (The Right Spark)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit worried because it's gotten quiet? Let me know what you think, it's what keeps me and the story going ♥ ♥ ♥

It’s not Sergio’s decision to leave the next morning, it’s Fernando’s. If it had been up to Sergio, he would have preferred the other to rest and recover maybe one or two more days. Fernando wouldn’t hear any of it though. Instead, he insisted his legs were about the only part of him that was fine so that they were safe to go. Sergio eventually gave in, accepting that he wouldn’t win the argument and in the back of his head, slightly relieved because supplies would turn into a problem inevitably if they stayed. _It’s only a day’s trip left anyway, he’ll make it._

Now, they’re making their way, slowly but steadily. The dogs and sheep go first and Sergio lets Fernando walk ahead of him most of the time, trying to make sure they’re not moving too fast for him and always ready to call back the animas if needed. This path, through the green pastures, climbing the mountain at a steady, soft slope, it makes Sergio feel at home and grounded, even after travelling it up and down for years it never loses this particular feeling of freedom, of wide, open space and a wide open world. _And a wide open heart?_ The thought flashes up in the back of his head, his eyes on the slender figure in front of him. The fighter moves with surprising grace for the injuries he sustained. Sure, his legs are fine, but his back must hurt and still, he’s walking in those elegant, long steps, hips swaying slightly – and hell, Sergio shouldn’t even been looking there. He tries to shift his focus back to the landscape that he loves so much, wants to enjoy the rays of morning sun that gradually become warmer, summer air slowly reaching the mountains.

He starts humming a simple tune that his father always sang when he was walking up here with him and keeps walking and despite his best intentions, his eyes keep going back to Fernando’s back. He sure has memorized every twitching muscle under that tight shirt. Just like he could exactly describe the swell of that butt if he closed his eyes. Or the way the long legs move, every step soft and delicate, like that of a cat. And when Fernando turns his head a bit because he’s looking at something at one of his sides, Sergio sees the profile of his face. The unruly blond streaks framing it. And the pink spots on his cheeks. And then there’s a first drop of sweat slowly making its way down Fernando’s temple and Sergio wants to close the gap between them and lick it off and damned, this is so wrong. He lets out an exasperated sigh, obviously too loud, because Fernando turns to face him questioningly.

”Want to take a break?”

Sergio asks half because Fernando truly looks like he might need it – and half because he surely needs a moment himself.

”Yeah, sounds great.”

Sergio signals for the dogs to stop in their way and sits down in the grass, Fernando following his example with slow, very careful movements. Sergio doesn’t miss the way he’s gritting his teeth and wonders whether he’s really fit enough, but then there’s no going back now and they’re not putting up the tent here, that much is for sure.

They share another cigarette and have some water. They a bit about this and that, Fernando asks about how he became a shepherd and Sergio explains a bit about his childhood. The way the mountains and their inhabitants work and how there really isn’t a choice when you grow up here. He tells him about his father and grandfather and their flock and their land and he revels in the way Fernando’s dark eyes are watching him throughout, wide awake, interested, curious.

When they get going again, he is behind Fernando and it doesn’t take long before he’s staring again. _It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things._ The words, heard many times at home and at church, start ringing in his ears like a chant and Sergio wonders, for the first time realizing that it says _all_ things. All. All includes everything. Does believing all things include believing in _this_?

***

The sweat on his forehead has nothing to do with the warmth of the sun if Fernando is being honest. The sun is nice and yes, summer is approaching quickly, but it’s far from being hot, certainly not for him who is used to the unbearable stickiness of city summers. But the pain in his back is all encompassing and it drives tears to his eyes and it makes him feel hot with exhaustion. No matter how hard he grits his teeth and how much he curls his hand into fists, he still thinks Sergio can read him like an open book, the worry clearly written over the shepherd’s face whenever their eyes meet. Still, Fernando is glad they are doing the trip, because he would have hated to feel more like a burden to Sergio than he does anyway.

Over the course of the day, he has become addicted to the sound of Sergio’s voice. It started with childhood stories during their first break and then Sergio told him things from his village and the people who live there afterwards and it was a nice distraction from the pain and made everything that little bit easier and more bearable.

They’re on their third break now, it’s way past noon, the afternoon already beginning to fade into evening and Sergio has assured him it won’t be for much longer. Fernando prays that’s true, because he won’t last much longer. With his head on his knees, he is sitting across from the shepherd, listening to story about him almost losing some sheep during a tour. His face is so perfect, Fernando thinks and loses himself in the sight, a little bit more each second. Tan skin, framed by silky black hair, dark eyes that sparkle with life and cleverness and a glint of something akin sassiness. When Sergio smiles, his whole face smiles, every line of it and the white teeth shine and his eyes glow more than they do anyway and it’s beautiful. But when he falls silent and pensive, cigarette casually attached to his full, red lips, he looks just as gorgeous.

Fernando is mesmerized and he feels happy and serene just from watching the other man. It’s new, overwhelming, probably more than he ever even felt around Olalla. _And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world._ The long forgotten words of a poem come back into his mind and suddenly, they’re no longer meaningless, boring school literature, they’re true in each and every aspect. As much as he tries to, and has to, deny it, he has fallen for Sergio. Deep and hard.

When they continue their way, the sun has disappeared behind the mountains and the air is cooler now, making him shiver already. Sergio has stopped walking behind him, changing to be next to him. Fernando is a bit sad that he stopped talking, because he misses the sound of his voice, his beloved distraction, that low rumble that sends tingling electric sensation through his body. The final miles stretch endlessly and take all his power, all his focus. He’s sure his own nails are digging into his hands hard enough to draw blood and there’s more than one moment where he wants to give up. As if he was reading his thoughts though, Sergio is there every time Fernando thinks he has to give up. Each and every time, the shepherd senses it, hands him some water or pats his shoulder, mumbles something reassuringly. And then, Fernando once again on the verge of surrender, Sergio points to a brown something in the distance.

”There it is, you made it.”

Maybe it’s the joy. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe the pain has made him lose his mind. Either way, when Fernando sees the hut, he cannot help the grin that spreads over his face. And he cannot help stopping and staring at Sergio, feeling his eyes get teary from the relief that he actually made it. And he also cannot help that his hands reach out, as if they were guided by something else, something bigger than Fernando’s thoughts, reach out and cup Sergio’s face and then he’s leaning in, closer and closer until their lips meet. It’s only the softest of touches, but it’s exactly that, a touch. A kiss. Between him and another man and it feels like everything he ever wanted is finally here.

_Todo ardes si le aplicas la chispa adecuada..._

_Everything burns when you use the right spark..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Heroes del Silencio  
> Sergio quotes from 1 Corinthians 13  
> Fernando quotes Pablo Neruda


	8. Look at the stars...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reassurance ♥ It's always so, so good to know what you think about this and you make e so happy with your feedback ♥  
> This one's a bit short and it feels kind of rough, but I can't get my head around it any better. I hope you enjoy anyway!

_...Look how they shine for you_

For once, Sergio doesn’t think. With his eyelids fluttering closed, his hands come to rest on Fernando’s hips. He takes in everything, the musky scent, the incredible heat of the other’s body, the soft feeling of Fernando’s lips against his – and who would have thought that a man’s kiss could feel so soft? His heart is thundering, threatening to burst out of his ribcage when he slowly parts his lips. His brain still isn’t working and probably, if he were thinking, he couldn’t do any of this. But as it is, Sergio’s lips are parted, against Fernando’s, and he hears Fernando breathe heavily. Then, the lips against reciprocate and open up, ever so slightly. It’s an unspoken invitation, a signal to take this further and Sergio does, nails digging into the skin of Fernando’s hips.

He vaguely notices that he’s getting hard and that should probably alert him, but strangely, it doesn’t. Something about the feeling of Fernando being so close, his body heat radiating against Sergio, his scent enveloping him, his hands still firm against his jaw, something about it is deeply, deeply comforting and serene. And Sergio is drowning and shivering and incredibly content as he’s standing here, in the middle of nowhere and still so close to home. His tongue is licking into Fernando’s mouth carefully, tasting, savoring, memorizing and Fernando does the same. It’s a delicate play, touches still soft, feathery, almost accidental. And it’s highly addictive, making Sergio wish that it would never ever end. He barely notices the low growl that escapes his lips.

***

He hears the little moan spilling from Sergio’s mouth into their kiss and it makes his cock twitch, makes him jerk his hips forward. In Fernando’s head, everything is dizzy, thoughts are spinning mercilessly. Focusing on one thought at a time seems an impossible task right now, because he’s on overload from all the sensations around him. Sergio smells so good, like fresh grass and hot skin and he feels hot against Fernando, even though their bodies aren’t quite touching yet. When Fernando’s fingers trace over Sergio’s face, his stubble rasps against Fernando’s skin and it’s a new feeling, but also a very good one. It’s not a conscious decision, more a giving in to a craving he didn’t know he had, when Fernando lets their kiss deepen, picks up pace and intensity, turning their contact every bit more passionate.

A little whimper gets stuck in the back of his throat when Sergio brings their hips closer. And in response, Fernando lets his fingers slide lower, tracing down Sergio’s jaw and neck – until they get tangled in something cool. Fernando’s hands touch the necklace and he stills, every muscle going rigid. It’s only a split-second later that Sergio follows his example, all movements stopped, all muscles tense. Their foreheads are still against each other but their mouths pull back, both of them panting softly.

Neither of them says a word, instead, Sergio turns around and starts walking, taking the last meters to the hut. Fernando follows him quietly, tears prickling behind his eyes, regret flooding his veins, his body shaky with emotions.

”I have some Absinthe in there, up for a glass?”

Fernando nods, still facing the floor.

”Okay, why don’t you just sit down and wait for me here? I’ll get food for the dogs and then I’ll bring the bottle.”

Fernando does as he’s told, sitting down on the grass in front of the touch, staring into the now dark sky. There are all these myriads of stars, sparkling everywhere and the moon is almost full, casting a soft light on everything. Occasionally, he hears one of the sheep and from inside the hut, he hears Sergio, clattering with things. He shivers as it’s cool now, much cooler than during the day. And maybe because he thinks he messed it up, broke things between them before they started. That kiss is probably going to kill everything. Maybe Sergio will even send him away?

***

Sergio flops down next to Fernando with a sigh, open bottle already in hand.

”Here you go.”

He holds it out and watches Fernando take a sip, his face lit by the moonlight. _You’re so gorgeous, so incredibly gorgeous._ Sergio swallows hard and takes the bottle back, quick to take a generous swig himself, relishing the burn in his throat with closed eyes. _I have to stop looking at him that way._ He urges himself, eyes fixed into the starry sky now. He’s more than glad and thankful that Fernando stopped them before they did anything worse. And at the same time, he feels increasingly desperate, because that kiss certainly left something behind. There’s a burning need inside him now, a desire that’s not fading at all. And all his thoughts revolve around is how he wants to press the blond man into the grass and be all over him.

”I’m sorry.”

Fernando’s voice is a mere whisper and Sergio feels his heart clench at the words. _In the end, you only did what I was too afraid to do._

”Nothing happened.”

Sergio declares, voice a little husky but firm enough to signal that they don’t need to discuss anything. At least, he hopes so. And after another round of liquor, he points into the sky and puts a hand on Fernando’s knee, not quite ready to let go of the other.

”Look, you see the three bright stars over there?”

He glances at Fernando and sees him nod, eyes slightly confused but curious in the dim moonlight.

”It’s the spring triangle, a point of orientation. When my grandfather was doing this, they still relied on these things to find their way.”

***

It’s back. The soothing rumble of Sergio’s voice is back, telling him things about stars and life as it used to be and Fernando loves it. In all honesty, he isn’t listening very much. The sound of Sergio’s voice is enough. And on his knee, there’s the burning touch of Sergio’s hand, burning right through the fabric of his jeans. It’s tingling and unbearably hot and sending all these little lightning bolts through Fernando’s body – and he wouldn’t want to miss it at any price. He had been so scared that he broke everything and the simple acceptance from Sergio, taking the kiss as what it was, a kiss out of a strange mood, no more, no less, it’s reassuring him and filling Fernando with relief. The bottle is passed back and forth along with the occasional cigarette and Sergio explains him more about the stars, Fernando eventually listening more intently, nodding and understanding, amazed at the shepherd’s knowledge and fascinated by the legends surrounding some of the images in the sky. Deep down, he realizes that he will never look into a starry sky as he used to ever again. His perspective changed permanently. 

When Sergio gets up next to him with a small sigh, Fernando cannot help the feeling of disappointment that crosses his mind. Sergio automatically extends a hand for him to hold onto and help him get up and he stumbles into the hut behind him, swaying slightly. Maybe it’s been a bit too much of alcohol? Inside the hut, they face a new problem, because there’s of course just one bed and a rather small one at that. Of course, Sergio insists for Fernando to take it, but there’s no way that he uses his host’s bed and makes him sleep on the floor. They even get in a small argument about it, until Sergio stops mid-sentence and eyes him, strange sparkle lighting up his look in the candle lit room.

”You know, after two nights in the same sleeping bag, this is ridiculous, right?”

Fernando’s jaw almost drops when the shepherd now strips to his boxers unceremoniously. He lets his jeans follow, belt hitting the floor with a thud and Sergio wordlessly assists him with the shirt. He ushers Fernando under the blanket and Fernando props himself up on his side as good as he can to watch Sergio get things ready for the night, padding across the dimly lit room to light a fire in the chimney. He blows out the candle on the way back to the bed and Fernando cannot take his eyes off of him, the play of light and shadow from the dancing flames making Sergio look even more irresistible than usual.

Sergio climbs into the bed next to him with a mumbled good night and of course they leave as much of a distinct gap between them as the narrow frame allows. But right before Fernando drifts away, the day’s exhaustion and the alcohol taking their toll, he feels a gentle hand running through his hair and soft lips press a peck to his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title/quote from Yellow by Coldplay


	9. Wrong to love you…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ♥ Your feedback made me smile for days! And it's the main reason why updates for this can be happening so frequently, really makes writing so much better and nicer and aargh, I just want to hug you all ♥

_…like I do_

Sergio sighs, savoring the taste of Fernando, a mix of saltiness and alcohol and then he rolls to his side, facing away from the fighter. Inside, he’s going completely tense, with his heart drumming insanely, every fiber hoping and praying that the other will curl around him. For a few seconds, he thinks it’s not happening and his heart is already aching with disappointment. But then a hand pushes under his head and another snakes around his waist and he feels Fernando move up against him completely. And even so they now have a blanket and are no longer confined to a sleeping bag, this is the closest, most intimate they’ve been around each other. In his neck, he feels the hot puffs of Fernando’s breath and his entire body is shivering, despite the heat of the flames and their bodies under the shared sheet. _His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me._ He gulps at the memory, flash of hot running through his veins.

Sergio carefully puts a hand on top of Fernando’s, fingers lacing tentatively. There’s no mistaking this for a thing between friends. There’s no necessity whatsoever of them being so close. And Sergio couldn’t care less. Maybe it’s the rest of the absinthe, slow to fade from his body. Or it’s the almost full moon. Or the exhaustion and the feeling of being drained. Most likely though, it’s Fernando. As simple as that. Fernando’s beauty and grace, the sweet taste of his lips, the gentle touch of his fingertips. The way he ended that kiss and stopped them from crossing lines that they probably shouldn’t be crossing. Stopped them from sinning. Sergio is grateful that Fernando kissed him, for it was bliss. And he’s just as grateful Fernando broke the kiss on time, for Sergio knows he isn’t ready to cross that line. Maybe he never will. And before he ever would, he’d have to talk about it to Fernando. Because he wants to be sure that they are on the same page, that they both know what vice they’re going to indulge in and that they are both ready to face whichever consequences that will have.

For now, he’s content with the memory of that one kiss, as sinful as it has been. He is more than sure that he will never forget a single second of it and that the taste of Fernando along with the image of his beautiful face in the moonlight will be imprinted in his heart forever. And Sergio has this night to remember, too; the two of them sleeping together, touching from head to toe with their fingers laced. It’s good to know that he’s at least experienced these precious hours, got to share this intimacy; because Sergio feels that if he dies now, he dies as a happy man. His eyelids flutter closed with another content sigh falling from his mouth. He’s somewhere between sleeping and waking, in a boneless and happy state of mind, when he hears Fernando’s voice behind him, whispering softly as if talking to himself.

”I love you, Sergio… forgive me, but I love you.”

His body shivers and he desperately pretends to be asleep when soft lips press a feathery kiss to his neck. _I have nothing to forgive you for._

***

_I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close._ The words are echoing in his head and he wishes they were true, wishes there were no problems in this love. But not only are there problems, there are barriers, boundaries, lines whatever things that cannot and should not be crossed. He sighs against Sergio’s neck, the other’s chest moving so evenly that he’s more than sure he’s already drifted away. But sleep won’t find Fernando quite yet. It’s not the pain – that is about bearable, especially under the haze of liquor. What keeps him awake is what he’s holding in his arms, the most precious gift he’s ever been given. His guardian angel and savior. And he hates himself a little for feeling the way he does, for craving him the way he does. He is completely and utterly ashamed of the fact that he has to will his cock to stay soft. And he is horrified by his desire to roll his hips, to lean in and let his lips touch that golden skin, flames throwing dancing lights upon it. He is terrified of his hand being tempted to slide lower, towards the black boxer briefs that hold the one thing he yearns to touch and feel. And it’s wrong, oh, so wrong to feel this way.

He buries his nose in the black hair, inhales the musky scent of the other man and he begs for forgiveness. Forgiveness from him and Olalla and the children. Maybe even from a god that Fernando doesn’t believe exists but that Sergio seems to be devout to. He’s led one of his sheep astray and he begs that god to forgive him and to make restraint easier. And it is the most hypocritical thing he’s ever done, asking for forgiveness for a sin that he is in fact still committing in this very moment; sharing a bed and a cover with another man, snuggling up close and closer with no intention to pull back. But Sergio is not just another man and Fernando feels weak, so weak, feels his resistance vanish into thin air and his self-control crumble. He knows that he won’t manage to stay away for long and he doesn’t understand how or why and the words invade his head relentlessly… _I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._ Maybe, Fernando ponders, it shouldn’t be a sin when it falls upon you just like this. When you look into another person’s eyes and see what he sees in Sergio’s, namely the bottom of his own soul reflected back to him, everything he ever searched for on a silver plate. That shouldn’t be considered a wrongdoing. It seems too much like fate and destiny. Fernando realizes that in fact, he has no doubt in Sergio as a person, no doubt in his intentions or affection or loyalty and it overwhelms him, because he isn’t sure he has ever trusted anyone like this. Purely and unconditionally. And when he accepts that, for this night at least, he is a safe place, holding a man he trusts with his life, that’s when his eyelids finally close and his pulse slows down, while his mind drifts away into dreamless sleep.

_My head, goes round and round,_  
 _My heart, comes a tumbling down._  
 _Your hot kisses, only make me know it's true._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Chris Isaak (I usually try to find something where lyrics and mood suit and here the mood is not a perfect match, but then the lyrics really seemed the best I could come up with. Sorry.)
> 
> Sergio quotes Song of Songs.
> 
> Fernando quotes Pablo Neruda.


	10. If we get too close...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in updating ♥  
> This one is a bit short again and though it seems there's not much happening, it's somewhat of a step for them ;) ♥  
> Thank you so, so much for the incredible feedback! I can't even tell you often enough how much it means and how it's basically what keeps the story going!

_...whispers in my ears_

Sergio wakes up with the first rays of sun peeking in through the hut’s only small window already. It takes him a small moment to regain his orientation and to understand and then he knows where he is and whose weight he feels against his back. Later, he will be surprised about himself, because right now, there is no doubt, no hesitation, no fear, only joy. Only simple and pure happiness about the fact that Fernando is here with him, wrapped around him, naked chest rubbing against Sergio’s spine, heartbeat vibrating through Sergio’s body and hot breath in Sergio’s neck. Everything is perfect just like this.

He allows himself to revel in the moment for a bit, knowing once they’re up here and the sheep are safe he doesn’t have too much else to do. Eventually, he’s almost drifting back off, he feels Fernando stir behind him and turns around with a flutter in his stomach. He should be getting used to it by now, but the sight is gorgeous again, Fernando’s face at peace and rest next to him. The fond smile spreads over Sergio’s face subconsciously while he watches the fighter wake up, eyes blinking open and squinting against the brightness, a hand trying to tame unruly streaks of hair and then a shy smile when he realizes where he is. Sergio sees it and his heart jumps a little. _You like being here. You really do._

And Sergio has been trying very intently to ignore the thought of how long Fernando is going to stay with him. He has avoided talking about the war or plans, partly, because he doesn’t want to upset the other and partly because he’s terrified of hearing the answers to the unspoken questions between them. Of course he’ll accept it when Fernando decides to leave, because without a doubt Sergio understands things like honor and giving your word and responsibility. Still, the mere thought that one day, possibly soon, Fernando will walk out of this hut to never return, is absolutely heartbreaking. On the other hand, Sergio ponders, since a farewell for good is inevitable, that might leave a tiny grey zone of opportunity? Because nobody would ever _know_ about these days they spend here in the hut, right?

”Hey there,” Sergio whispers, still marveling Fernando’s face.

It takes him a moment to sort why Fernando isn’t replying and instead looking at him with a puzzled expression. Sergio notices that he’s absentmindedly started to trace the bruises on Fernando’s jar with his fingers and now that he notices, he pulls his hand back as if he’d been burned.

”Looks like you’re healing,” Sergio feels his cheeks heat up and coughs, “how is your back?”

For a moment, Fernando scrutinizes him, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next, then the shy smile is back and the moment is over, tension vanishing.

”It’s better. Not perfect, but better and I think I can actually move my arms a bit.” Fernando moves his arms as if he wants to prove a point and Sergio is lost in the movement of the muscles of his neck and shoulders. Then, Fernando’s voice becomes adorably shy when he adds, “I… I think I could still use help shaving though, I think my hands are a bit shaky still.”

Sergio gulps, probably audibly and his eyes inevitably fall on Fernando’s hands that the other has put on the blanket now. In his chest, Sergio feels his heart thunder and he nods, because he has to, because he could never explain to Fernando why that would be a bad idea. Because things like “oh, I’d rather not because I might want to do so much more to you then” still seem off limit. The kiss doesn’t change that, as at the end of the day, Sergio is well aware that they might only have been a response to a very agonizing, overwhelming trip.

***

Sergio has agreed to shave him and now Fernando knows in all certainty that asking that was a bad, bad idea. They’ve untangled from the sheets and gone outside in their boxers, shivering in the cool morning air. The creek passes by the hut, too, and they’ve refreshed their faces – and gotten rid of certain morning issues. Fernando is relieved he is not the only one, but then he has no idea whether it’s merely a physical reaction for Sergio. For himself, that much he knows, it’s way more than that and if there were no rules, no wives, no kids; he’d happily rip off all of their underwear and throw himself at the shepherd. Especially right now, where he is sitting on tree trunk and Sergio is kneeling in front of him, between his legs actually, and carefully shaving him. Sergio has extremely steady hands and moves swiftly and precisely. Fernando is still holding his breath and he’s trying to think of ugly scenes, trying hard not to give away how arousing this is, Sergio’s fingertips brushing over his skin, Sergio’s breath on his skin. Fernando shudders. _Bad, bad idea._

Nevertheless, he feels a thousand times better once the stubble is gone and while Sergio wanders off to shave himself, Fernando stays where he is, morning sun warming him slightly, eyes in the sky. He’s wondering and pondering, asking himself how long he can stay here without making his intentions too obvious. It’s breaking his heart that he will have to leave one day and it scares him a little that he’s more worried about leaving Sergio behind than he is about not being with his compatriots. The whole war, the causes he was supposed to be fighting for, it’s faded incredibly quickly, now reduced to a distant memory, almost like Olalla. And then he sits there, eyes still up to the sky and suddenly, serenity comes, along with the realization that these days are like a safe little haven, a break from reality. Nobody will ever know he’d been here so it’s like none of this has ever happened. And he cannot stop thinking about the day before, about Sergio’s behavior towards him and even if he tries not to read too much into it, he can’t help wondering if Sergio has similar problems to the ones that he is having. But even if Fernando knows they’re alone here and nobody would find out, he would never want for Sergio to regret anything. But for now, Fernando thinks he can be content with the things he has, like sharing a bed and exchanging some smiles and being able to just watch Sergio.

He can’t help grinning sheepishly when they go back inside, warming up in front of a fresh fire, sharing bread and drinking coffee. And it’s the first coffee he’s had in ages and it tastes so wonderful. Fernando savors each second of this, the expiry date too clearly present in his head. His eyes rest on Sergio who is smiling back at him, somewhat shyly, while sipping on his coffee and they start chatting about meaningless things. Fernando isn’t fully there, his eyes and thoughts to occupied with Sergio and the way he looks irresistible in the light of the fire from the fire place. _Make the most of it, that’s all I can do._

_Oh we have been to many churches..._   
_...but we never believed_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title/quotes from Hummingbird by Cocoon


	11. I Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you SO much for the feedback on this ♥ It's incredible and makes me so happy and please keep it up, because it makes writing this a lot easier ♥
> 
> I hope this chapter is neither too slow or too fast for you, I found it a bit difficult to figure out the speed at which they'd move ahead, but overall I think I'm good with the way it's turned out. ♥

_That night I crossed the bridge of sighs and I surrendered_

His usual tasks are completed rather quickly and he has to admit that having Fernando around is nice. Not like he had problems with the solitude over the past years, and he does of course meet other people when he gets supplies, but that’s different from having someone right here with him. The way Fernando smiles at him always makes him feel so warm, so flooded with happiness from the inside, it’s absolutely beautiful. In fact, Fernando is absolutely beautiful. Although, Sergio knows that might be a problem. Or maybe it is a problem already. Or it’s just not at all like that and could be totally simple if he stopped listening to his head.

All day long, the thoughts won’t stop spinning through his brain. Whether he takes care of the sheep, washes clothes, cooks or sits to smoke and talk to Fernando, who is resting and recovering, Sergio cannot stop wondering about the window of opportunity that seems to be open here. In the evening, the sun vanishing behind the mountains and all chores completed, Sergio feels dizzy from all the thinking and wondering. _I’m clearly not made for all this thinking and considering and weighing options. I’m meant to be working hard, not thinking hard._ They have dinner inside as the breeze is cool and Sergio feels that Fernando is shivering too much outside. Instead, he places his sleeping mat from the tent right in front of the fire and they sit facing each other, cross-legged, sharing bread and soup and a bottle of red that Sergio had left at the hut a year ago.

”So… do you have a family waiting for you back at home?”

They’re halfway done with the wine, so Sergio finally musters up enough courage to ask.

”Mhm.” Fernando nods and Sergio feels his heart sink. “A wife and two kids. It’s been about a year since I last saw them though.”

There’s pain in Fernando’s voice and it breaks Sergio’s heart but it also makes him green with envy. All these emotions he shouldn’t been feeling, the things the church and his parents condemned, love for a man, jealousy, lust. He shakes his head involuntarily. His stomach flips unpleasantly. Maybe he knows that it’s wrong, but he still can’t help it. His eyes rest on Fernando’s face, fascinate by the play of light and shadow that the dancing flames cast upon it.

”That must be difficult,” he manages to croak eventually and Fernando just shrugs before he suddenly lifts his head and looks straight into Sergio’s eyes.

His look alone is enough to make Sergio’s heart jump.

”I think it’s not that different for you… maybe you’re not away for so long, but you have to leave every year… all these goodbyes. That must be hard, too.”

Sergio nods and bites his lip. _It is hard. But, and it hurts to admit it, mostly because of the kid. Not so much because of Pilar. And I hope she and God and the universe forgive me for feeling that way, but it’s really not that difficult to leave her there. She’s not… she’s not you._ Sergio feels the heat spread over his cheeks and knows that he’s blushing from the shame, overrun with regret. Because surely, he should love Pilar. Only Pilar.

***

_And tonight the stars are all aligned and I surrender_

It’s a good feeling, warm and full and slightly dizzy from the wine. And of course, with the most gorgeous sight right in front of him. Sergio, wearing jeans only, flames throwing dancing shadows over golden glowing skin. Fernando cannot take his eyes away. Maybe he should, maybe he is giving away too much. Most likely though, he doesn’t care. The war, his parents, Olalla and even the kids, basically the entire real world; it all feels incredibly far away. As if everything has happened in an earlier life and his current life only started the moment Sergio picked him up from that grass. In a sense, Fernando thinks, that’s more than true – as he would have died there without the shepherd’s care.

They’ve fallen silent after exchanging a few stories about their respective families and the wine is almost empty by now. Fernando cannot help swallowing hard. Every once in a while, their eyes meet briefly, both of them always quick to look away again. He is not sure how to read Sergio’s face, Sergio’s eyes. Part of him is convinced that he sees a spark of lust there. Probably, that’s not even wishful thinking. Still, in the back of his head, he cannot silence the nagging voice that keeps reminding him how much more loyal and upright than himself the shepherd is. _I’m sure he’s never broken his word or cheated or done anything harmful with intention. Not like me._ Because Fernando, over the course of a disillusioning war, has lost many of his standards, has done more than one thing he isn’t proud of. And the regret never leaves him, the shame of having done wrong. It’s something he doesn’t want Sergio to experience.

”And while you were at war… away from home… have you ever… I mean, with a man?”

Sergio is staring at the ground and Fernando can only imagine how much courage that question must have cost. His own heart is thundering nervously now, because this conversation is surely taking a direction he didn’t expect.

”No. Never. Others did, but I… I don’t know. I guess I was too scared.”

Fernando shrugs, a blush creeping up his face again and his stomach flipping. For a moment, he hopes for Sergio to say something else. Instead, they both fall silent and probably Sergio can hear his heart thunder right now. Fernando cannot look up to check what Sergio is doing though, because something about the topic, something about the sudden tension between them, is completely paralyzing him. So he stares at his own legs instead, his fingers running over the threadbare jeans, borrowed from Sergio, absentmindedly. They fit him really well as they’re the same height. Sergio is broader though. And darker in complexion and hair. Broader is the important part though. He’s someone to lean on, someone to be held by. Fernando feels a shiver run down his spine at the memory of the times he’s spent in Sergio’s arms. Around them, the room has gone silent, only sounds their breathing and the crackling of the fire.

***

_Hold me now while my old life dies tonight and I surrender_

Sergio lifts his eyes slightly, letting them rest on Fernando, who is intently avoiding his gaze. Sergio’s stomach clenches. He doesn’t really doubt the spark of desire he’s seen in Fernando’s eyes earlier. What he doesn’t know is whether Fernando is ready to give in. And he knows even less whether he himself is ready to take the next step. Everything would be easier if Fernando would just start. Like the other night. And Sergio is very sure he’d kiss back without hesitation. But he also understands that it is his time to start things. Because Fernando has taken initiative before and he must be wondering about Sergio’s take on this. And maybe they should talk, really talk, about what they want, but the words won’t come out of Sergio’s mouth. How do you explain someone, another man specifically, that although you have no idea how that would even work, you’d kind of like to take them to bed? Because you get hard just from looking at them. Sergio feels his face blush and his dick twitch in response.

”That kiss-“ Sergio stops and almost chokes and briefly considers running away, “I… I’ve never done that before. With a man.”

It takes a while for Fernando to answer and in Sergio’s head, the blood is rushing too loudly for him to focus.

”Me neither.”

Sergio blinks, surprised and at the same time, strangely overwhelmed. _I was your first. I really was your first._

Sergio isn’t sure what he should or could do with the new information, so he just keeps looking at Fernando, waiting for the other to return the gaze. It takes a moment, but then the fighter gives in and lifts his head and Sergio looks into the most beautiful dark brown eyes and they look as if they hold all the answers to all the spoken and unspoken questions in his life.

***

_Tonight I'm learning how to fly and I surrender_

When his eyes meet Sergio’s, Fernando holds his breath. Sergio’s pupils are wide, dilated, almost gone entirely black and the tension between them is every bit palpable now. He’s still holding his breath and biting his lip, his pulse racing infinitely, when he sees Sergio’s hand move and then Sergio’s fingers are in his neck and the whole world turns into slow motion. Hypnotized, Fernando lets Sergio pull his head closer and when he is absolutely sure that the impossible is really going to be happening, his eyelids flutter close.

The touch of Sergio’s lips against his is soft, tentative, testing the waters and Sergio just stills in his movements then, their mouths against each other and Sergio’s hand still holding Fernando’s neck carefully. It’s the unspoken handing over of initiative and Fernando knows. Knows that now it’s his part to step forward and do something, show Sergio that he wants this as much as the shepherd apparently wants it, too. He can’t quite move the way he’d want to, muscles of his arms still sore and strained, but he manages to lean forward and shuffle enough to be sitting on his knees. So, when he bends forward a bit more, their foreheads are against each other and with a bit of effort, he even manages to put his hands on Sergio’s side. The smooth skin is incredibly hot under his touch and he thinks he feels Sergio shudder.

With a small, almost imperceptible nod to himself, Fernando parts his lips, tongue darting out to flicker over Sergio’s, tasting the wine there. In his neck, the grip of Sergio’s fingers tightens slightly, possessiveness sending another shiver down his spine. Sergio’s lips part now, too, inviting him in willingly and Fernando doesn’t hesitate, his tongue licking into Sergio’s mouth. When the shepherd responds, albeit tentatively, it’s pure bliss. The feel of their tongues meeting, of breathing in the same air essentially, of teeth grazing over lips.

With time, the pace quickens and Fernando slowly forgets that this is a man he is kissing. At the end of the day, it’s Sergio and that’s all that matters. Shuffling on his knees, he moves until he sits almost in the other’s lap, straddling him and bringing their chests against each other. Sergio’s naked skin burns even through the thin T-Shirt Fernando is still wearing. At the hem, he feels Sergio’s free hand, sliding underneath the fabric, fingertips hovering over his stomach and chest. Myriads of little electric bolts run through Fernando’s body and he releases the tiniest little whimper into their kiss.

_This feels too good to be wrong._ Fernando pulls back reluctantly, need for air too pressing now. For an instant, their eyes lock and they’re both panting and Fernando thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, Sergio’s flushed face, with kiss-swollen, dark red lips, a string of saliva still connecting the two of them and Sergio’s eyes devouring him with looks alone. Fernando shuffles that last bit closer, their crotches rubbing against each other now, their chests pressed firmly against each other. It costs him some effort but he manages to reach up with one hand, tracing over the unfamiliar evening stubble on Sergio’s jaw. It makes the other shiver and Fernando smiles at the reaction before he closes his eyes again and brings their lips back together. 

If he’d had any doubt about Sergio’s feelings towards this, they are erased now that he’s seen the other man’s eyes, filled with lust and he’s felt Sergio shiver and squirm under his touches and caresses. And for one night, for one, hopefully glorious night, Fernando is determined to push aside the doubt and guilt and to only surrender. Giving in to the temptation. And Sergio groans into their kiss, as if he’s read Fernando’s mind and wanted to agree on the plan.

_I've travelled all this way for your embrace_  
_Enraptured by the recognition on your face_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by David Sylvian (it's truly perfect for this chapter ♥)


	12. Take My Breath Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much ♥ I don't even have enough words to tell you how much your feedback means to me, each and every time ♥ Just be sure that this wouldn't even exist without you!
> 
> The next chapter is them taking the first part of the leap and I hope you enjoy, though there's not much plot to be found. ♥

_On this endless ocean_  
_Finally lovers know no shame_

Fernando tastes as perfect as he looks, like wine and salt and full of promises that this night will be the most beautiful in Sergio’s life. A small part of him, in the back of his head, is still concerned, still unsure of his skills, because Sergio has only been with Pilar until tonight. Only kissed Pilar, only held Pilar, only made love to Pilar – and even if he now knows that he is Fernando’s first man, he doubts there’s been only one woman in that gorgeous man’s life. But with Fernando’s groin pressing against his, noticeably hard, and with the way Fernando is licking into his mouth and biting his lips with his teeth and exploring his back with his fingertips, Sergio isn’t capable of much thinking in the first place and soon sensations are taking over his mind entirely.

And there is a lot to feel right now; Fernando’s tongue lapping at his own, Fernando’s nail scraping a line down his spine, Fernando’s evening stubble against his chin, Fernando’s heartbeat vibrating through his body. There are shivers and tiny sparks of electricity running through Sergio’s whole body and he’s vaguely aware that he is the one making the needy sounds, deep in the back of his throat, spilling into their kiss. And it’s good and perfect and warm and fuzzy and there’s honestly nowhere else he’d rather be right now. When Fernando wraps a hand around his neck again, thumb gently hovering over the delicate skin under his ear, Sergio shudders and gooseflesh spreads from his neck down to his toes. _I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me._ There’s no doubt left between them, no hesitation and everything feels so right that Sergio thinks it can’t possibly be wrong.

It’s the need for oxygen that eventually forces him to pull his head away slightly, lips staying parted and gasping for breath. He opens his eyes to the sight of Fernando staring at him, pupils blown impossible wide. There’s a tiny smirk at the corner of Fernando’s mouth and Sergio is just about to try reading it when he feels Fernando shift in his lap, grinding his hips down and it makes their bulges rub directly against each other and _oh… did I just make that embarrassingly needy whimper?_ A soft chuckle from Fernando confirms that and then Fernando’s hands trail patterns on his arms, making it impossible for Sergio to stop shuddering. But there’s no way he wants this to end and so his head ends up falling back, exposing his neck to Fernando who is quick to pick up on the opportunity. When Fernando’s lips press against his jaw, his tongue licking a wet line down from his chin to his Adam’s apple, Sergio whines and when Fernando starts kissing him properly, sucking the skin into his mouth, Sergio’s grips at Fernando’s hips gets so tight that his nails are probably drawing blood.

***

_Watching I keep waiting_  
_Still anticipating love_

Sergio’s skin is soft and hot. It smells like sun and grass and it tastes salty under Fernando’s tongue. He loves it, as much as he loves Sergio’s reactions to every touch and every lick he places on his body. His fingers explore the firm muscles of Sergio’s arms, veins clear for him to feel, gooseflesh forming and the muscles twitching with every caress. From Sergio’s mouth, he hears the most beautiful little whimpers, each one assuring him that yes, they’re on the same page, they both want this. His thoughts aren’t coherent enough anymore to bother about the inevitable tomorrow, he’s reduced to here and now, to flames dancing over Sergio’s skin and Sergio’s nails digging into his flesh sharply and possessively. Maybe he should vaguely worry about how exactly this is going to work, because even after his time in the army, sex between men still is only a very theoretical concept to him. But then, going with the flow is working out for them so far and his instincts, mainly telling them that he wants Sergio closer and closer and to be his and only his, are serving him well judging by the sounds spilling from the shepherd’s mouth.

Moaning softly against Sergio’s collarbone, where he’s just about to leave another mark, Fernando starts leaning forward and pressing Sergio’s torso down until he’s with his back on the mat, Fernando propped up over him, tongue tracing on of his nipples. When his teeth graze the delicate skin, Sergio’s hands fly into his hair, clenching tightly. Fernando doesn’t care about the light pain on his scalp; instead he revels in the possessiveness of the gesture, his impossibly hard cock twitching. And these jeans are really becoming too tight, so he starts shoving them down along with the underwear and when he moves to do the same with Sergio’s, the shepherd props himself up slightly, eyeing him with an insecure look.

”You’re okay?”

Fernando’s voice comes out hoarse and breathless. No, he doesn’t want this to stop, but he’d hold back for Sergio any minute, his fingers now waiting for the other’s response, resting against his belt buckle.

Sergio seemingly considers the question for a moment that seems to last an eternity, but then he nods slowly and Fernando releases the breath he’s been holding and continues his task. And then it’s done and they’re both fully naked, meaning he is face to face with another man’s cock. It’s not awkward or disgusting as he would have expected before he met Sergio. Instead, it’s a dream coming true, an unspoken promise of the things that are about to come. Sergio is built well, probably a bit thicker than Fernando himself and he manages to think that without even an hint of jealousy, eyes mesmerized by the sight, tongue licking his lips subconsciously while he watches a bead of pre-come forming at the tip. And Fernando has never done this before, but now that he sees it, it’s too irresistible not to. So he bends his head down and flicks his tongue out, swiping off the little drop. He is savoring the bitter and unfamiliar taste almost as much as the sight and sound of Sergio swearing, gasping and writhing underneath him.

***

_Never hesitating_  
_To become the fated ones_

Sergio’s mind is almost gone, his vision blurred and his pulse racing wildly. Nobody has ever done this to him, not in his wildest fantasies. Sure, he’s heard stories, even read some, back when he was still a desperate teenager. His friends also told him about things like this and how good they felt, but Sergio has never been fully sure they were real. But now, this is happening and feels all too real, Fernando’s lips on his cock and it’s just one giant _wow_ , followed by a string of swears he wasn’t aware he knew.

Fernando’s tongue moves to lick a way up his stomach but Sergio’s is only absently noticing, all his cells and nerves still caught up with the overwhelming sensation of Fernando’s tongue on his tip. He’s gasping helplessly and only now notices that his hands are tightly clutching to Fernando’s hair and probably hurting the other. Though Fernando shows no signs of discomfort, caressing and exploring Sergio’s chest in way no one has done it before. And Fernando seems to be everywhere and everything and it’s blissful how there is truly nothing else in this world but the touches and caresses on his skin.

His heart clenches when Fernando’s mouth then is gone all over sudden, the fighter settling next to him. Sergio feels cold and exposed, now that the comforting kisses and caresses are missing. He is just blinking his eyes open when Fernando’s hand starts pulling on his shoulder and he slowly understands, rolling to his side in turn and facing the other. _God, you’re too beautiful to be true._ Sergio’s breath gets stuck in his throat, Fernando’s face almost close enough for their foreheads to touch, pink spots on his cheeks and his forehead glistening with sweat, messy blond streaks everywhere. And these eyes, these incredible dark eyes with that hint of sadness that never fully leaves them, not even now and that makes Sergio so desperate to just curl around the other man and comfort him until he is better.

He slowly traces a line along Fernando’s jaw, stubble still unfamiliar against his fingers and carefully avoiding the bruises.

”I love you, Fernando.”

***

_Haunted by the notion_  
_Somewhere there's a love in flames_

He doesn’t have words to describe how the soft whisper makes him feel, his heart jumping with joy and his eyes almost filling with tears. _I love you as one loves certain dark things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul._

”Love you, too.”

He just about gets the words out, voice already wobbly and quickly leans forward for another kiss, soft and gentle, touch of tongues barely there. It takes him some effort again, his arms and shoulders strained and sore from everything they’ve done so far, but he manages to reach for Sergio’s hand on his face, covering it first and then lacing their fingers and moving their hands down. He doesn’t stop until they’re touching their cocks. An hour ago, he would have thought Sergio would jump and run if this ever came up between them. Now, he has no doubts and Sergio, without questioning and with their gazes locked intensely, plays along, their hands jointly reaching around their erections and moving along.

It’s strange and unfamiliar for a split-second, but then it feels too good to bother with the potential inappropriateness. Fernando cannot hold back a growl and Sergio is whining, the sound making Fernando even harder. He is the one controlling their speed and movements and they might be clumsy and inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter one bit. The thought and feel that Sergio’s cock is sliding against his, their mixed pre-come slicking both of them, their laced fingers following the same rhythm; it’s enough, more than enough actually, to make Fernando’s vision go white hot. He realizes that this will be over way too quickly, much faster than he would want it to, but his orgasm is approaching him with an uncontrollable force, taking his breath away and making all his muscles tremble with anticipation. When he comes, it’s probably after only a few minutes and he cries, an honest to God scream that echoes through the hut, while all thoughts are gone, replaced by exploding colors and stars and he only distantly notices how Sergio moans, louder than he thought possible, their hands covered in hot liquid and slowly coming to a hold.

If it was an option, Fernando would prefer to stay here, like this, forever. But once they’ve come back from their afterglow, waves of pleasure faded, getting up is a necessity. He allows himself a last moment of perfect bliss, eyes locked with Sergio’s and all the love he inexplicably feels for the shepherd reflected right back at him through Sergio’s eyes. Eventually though, they have to move and so they do, wordlessly and suddenly evading each other’s eyes. He wipes himself and hands Sergio the shirt he used, before he falls into the bed, hoping and praying that Sergio would climb in after. He’s not disappointed, because the shepherd, after quickly cleaning his firm stomach and adding some wood to the fireplace, crawls under the sheet with him, arm immediately going around Fernando’s waist. There’s something possessive in each of Sergio’s gestures and Fernando cannot get enough of it.

He buries his head in the crook of Sergio’s neck, breathing in the scent of their sweat and skin and releasing a relieved sigh. Because when they’re still sharing the bed after _this_ , he hopes Sergio’s regrets aren’t too strong. At least not yet. Sergio’s fingers are drawing little patterns on his side, where the dressings aren’t covering the skin and Fernando shivers slightly. With his entire focus shifting to the soft caresses and worn out from their act of love, Fernando drifts away quickly, feeling boneless and safe in Sergio’s hold.

_Watching in slow motion_  
_As you turn my way and say_  
_Take my breath away_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Berlin (Time for cliché, but this just fits so, so well.)


	13. Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry. I have a sad track record of running away and letting people down whenever things get difficult. If you're angry and/or hurt, I understand. I wish I could explain. ♥
> 
> Anyway: this has been sitting on my drive for a while now and I like this story way too much to let go, so I'll post it against better knowledge.
> 
> And thank you for all the lovely comments, I hope I'll get around to answer everybody eventually.

Sergio wakes up pressed against Fernando again, everything hot and sticky under the covers. It’s too hot actually, but at the same time, somehow about this, about being close to Fernando, makes him feel at peace. Rested. And content. It’s a beautiful way to wake up he ponders, but then, while he disentangles carefully, eyes on Fernando’s peaceful face, he slowly remembers just how far they’ve crossed the lines last night. _There’s no going back now, right? God, what have I done?_

On his way out, his hands rub over his stubble and he hears his blood pulse and rush in his head, overwhelmed with guilt and regret for a moment. With shaky fingers, he lights his cigarette and sits down in front of the hut, shivering in the cool morning air and taking desperate breaths. After a while, eyes following the lazy movements of the sheep, he feels himself relax slightly and he remembers that he wanted to believe in all things. Including this. _But then… what if Fernando feels differently? What if he’ll hate me when he notices that I took advantage?_

With a sigh, he walks to the water and starts his morning routine, trying to distract himself from thinking too much. Actually, there’s not much use in freaking out now, with Fernando still asleep and his reaction unknown. And anyway, however hard Sergio tries to get a grip of the situation he’s gotten himself – or themselves – into, he is too confused and shaken to reach any kind of conclusion. What he needs, really, really desperately needs, is to know Fernando is okay. And it’s not really helpful that he’ll have to be gone half of the day, because picking up food is a rather urgent need.

He wishes he could take Fernando along, but even if the other wasn’t too injured, that would be way too risky. They couldn’t be seen together. Not without raising suspicion. Because Sergio is well aware that not all farmers would take in wounded fighters. Most wouldn’t. And in their current state, they can’t very well get themselves into the additional hassle of the inevitable hostility that could hit them. Plus, there would be rumors. Which could spread to Pilar. And Sergio's face is in flames when her name crosses his mind.

***

Fernando sleeps dreamlessly and deeply, something that until Sergio picked him up from that grass, he hadn’t done once since he started fighting. But now, ever since he’s started spending his nights in these strong, broad arms though, he is resting like a baby. And right now, the soft tickling of calloused fingers that run over his jaw is waking him. 

“Fernando?”

He blinks his eyes open to the sight of Sergio kneeling next to the bed, dressed and clean-shaven already, long hair pulled back in ponytail for a change. It’s a view Fernando feels so familiar with already, one that makes him happy without further reason and he’s unable to hold back the smile that spreads over his face.

“Hey… good morning.”

And then he notices Sergio’s insecure eyes, the way the shepherd is biting his lower lip nervously and the fighter freezes, memory from last night hitting him hard. What if Sergio regrets everything and wants him gone?

They stare at each other for a moment and the thoughts are swirling in his head while he desperately tries to focus, tries to decide how he feels himself and to read how Sergio feels at the same time.

“We okay?” Sergio’s voice sounds like he’s on the verge of breaking and Fernando breaks out of his chain of thought and coughs.

“Yes,” he whispers, “more than okay, right?”

He leans up, decidedly slow because he is trying to leave Sergio a last way out, but the shepherd is beaming now and lowers his head almost eagerly, their lips meeting for a chaste kiss. They linger, lips closed, fingers laced, foreheads touching. Fernando cannot help the slight disappointment when Sergio pulls back, but then the other sits down on the edge of the mattress, hand still in Fernando’s, thumb rubbing those soothing patterns over the damaged skin of his wrists. Down Fernando’s back, the shivers are running havoc once again. He studies Sergio’s eyes, still unsure how the other feels about last night, but then he doesn’t even fully know how he feels himself. _We’re okay. We agreed that we’re okay._

“I have to go down to one of the farms later, fetch some supplies. It’s going to take a few hours. You should just relax, okay? The dogs will take care of everything.”

Fernando nods but he cannot hold back a gulp. It’s strange, he thinks, but he suddenly feels scared by the thought that Sergio will leave him here alone. Dogs or not. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to be back as soon as possible, okay?”

“Sure, sure. I was just-“ Fernando trails off and shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know, I guess I’ve just become a bit sappy over the past days,” he adds with a chuckle, pulling the other down for another brief kiss.

***

It surprises Sergio, but it’s actually hard to leave Fernando behind. They hug and then Fernando, dressed in boxers and a shirt, waves from the door of the hut. It’s still a stiff movement, but it seems that the worst has passed for the fighter’s arms. Though with the angry bruises still covering his skin and the open wounds on his back, Sergio has no doubts he’s still in a fair amount of pain. Maybe the farmer has some painkillers on hand at least. 

The walk, though not longer than all these years before, feels endless today and Sergio determinedly tries to focus on anything else but the thing, whatever it is, between him and Fernando. They’d agreed that they’re okay after all, whatever that means. All Sergio knows for sure is that last night was the best night of his life, that he’s never had a sexual experience that could measure up to it before and that he’s never felt for anyone the way he does for Fernando. Because leaving Pilar behind for several months has been easier than leaving Fernando for a few hours. And then his stomach clenches over the realization that sooner or later - but probably sooner, going by the speed of recovery so far – he will have to leave Fernando behind forever. _I’m screwed, totally screwed._

He knows he’s about to panic again and hastily distracts himself with a cigarette, tries to guide his thoughts towards happier territory. Neither of them freaked out this morning. Actually, they kissed and hugged and with the way Fernando looked at him, he can be more than hopeful that Fernando has some interest to repeat last night, too. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. _What have we done?_

***

Fernando does his best to get himself somewhat clean and fresh by the creek, pushing any thought about last night away with determination. There’s a nagging guilt that's trying to resurface, because he feels like he’s the one who dragged Sergio to the dark side of temptation, like he ruined the innocent shepherd. _And in a way, that’s just what I did, isn’t it?_ But then, Sergio kissed him again before he left, and quite passionately in fact, so for the moment, things are okay and that’s all he really wants to think about right now, because if he’s learned one thing during the past year, it’s that planning for a future is rather useless in times like these anyway.

He sighs and smokes and allows himself to dwell in memories of the last night for a moment, the images in front of his closed eyes so real that he can even smell and taste Sergio again. He wouldn’t say that he’s been a saint so far. Or that his previous sexual experience has been limited. He’s always liked women, enjoyed being with them, touching them. They were soft and pliant, with smooth skin and curves and he found satisfaction with them easily. But last night… Sergio, the feeling of stubble and calloused fingers, the hard planes of a toned, broad, masculine chest... it’s never appealed to him until now and it seems it got him hooked immediately. Nothing he’s experienced has felt as intense as this and his cock is half-hard just from the daydream already.

It’s a soft beeping that distracts him from his thoughts abruptly. It’s a desperate, somehow needy sound that for whatever irrational reason is going under his skin. And he cannot help but look for the source. It doesn’t take much investigation to locate it and find the small bird, one wing obviously broken. Fernando doesn’t know what’s going on with him, if he’s really turning into some sappy, hopelessly romantic fool here or whatever else is driving him to do this nonsense, but as if he was driven by some external force, he just has to go and pick up the little, wounded creature, carrying it inside the hut on a shaky hand. _No one should be left behind to die._

 _Out of the doubt that fills my mind_  
_I somehow find_  
_You and I collide_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Howie Day.


	14. Hungry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everything ♥

_I’m hungry for you, my love, so come out and rescue me_

The way is long, too long for Sergio’s taste. It feels like he needs more time today than he has ever needed before and that means something for a path that he’s been taking for about twenty years now. He tries to focus on something, anything that distracts him from the man waiting in his cabin and tries to remember what he did or thought about in the past. But until a couple of years ago, he has never been in this alone. He’d always had his father and in earlier years even his brother with him and they’d talk about this and that and his father would share his knowledge and with it the cumulated wisdom of all their ancestors with his sons. Facts about the weather, the mountains, plants and animals. Sergio learned to read the formation of clouds and the color of the sky; he learned about herbs and hunting, about wolves and falcons. And then, his brother long having a family of his own, Sergio's father got too old to make the way and so Sergio got to go by himself, with his son still too young to join him. And yes, last year had been lonely, he remembers. But not entirely in a sad way, at least if Sergio is honest. In fact, getting away from everybody had felt better than ever without that he could have named the exact reason. But somehow, their tiny house, the constantly crying baby, Pilar’s eyes that were always full of all these expectations Sergio felt unable to fulfill, his parents’ rigid opinions on how to lead a life… it had been a constant source of pressure and as soon as he stepped out towards the mountains, some knots he’d felt around his chest suddenly were untied. It’s been the same this year, too. And then Fernando happened.

The thing about knowing Fernando, about, well, _having_ Fernando, it’s that Sergio now feels unable to imagine going back. No, he hadn’t been happy with his life before, but as he hadn’t known any different, he also hadn’t compared and so he’d been okay with it. Maybe, during the dark, crowded winter days in the village, he’d been less content than during the summers in the mountains, but all in all, he always coped, he knew there was no choice and he accepted his tasks in life. Now, though, how could he go back and not remember? How could he forget the feeling of being close to someone so loving, so warm; someone who didn’t expect Sergio to be anything other than himself. And facing Pilar, now, seems more than just a little difficult and every time it sinks in, the full dimension of the last night, Sergio feels like he is going up in flames because it burns and stings so badly. Adultery. Sergio gulps and suddenly empties his stomach into some bushes. He sinned. And as much as he is ashamed and as much as it makes him sick, there is a nagging feeling in the back of his head and an overwhelming craving to get back to that hut rather sooner than later and repeat everything right again. And that’s what truly scares him… like he lost all self-control with a bat of Fernando’s stunningly beautiful eyelashes.

***

He fixes the wing as good as he can and probably that’s not exactly much. He’s seen his grandfather fix a duck’s wing, but that was when he was maybe three or four. And it was a duck. The bird in front of him is much, much smaller and he has no doubt that Sergio would know exactly what type it is. Sergio would also know if and how he could help the small creature. Fernando isn’t even sure how to feed it and ends up putting it in a small box that he saw on the shelf and only giving it water and some crumbled bread. Hopefully that would do until Sergio’s return. Fernando’s stomach does a funny little twist at the thought. It sounds ridiculous to himself, but he actually misses Sergio’s presence already. He still has no words to express his gratitude about the simple fact that Sergio hasn’t panicked about last night. Though maybe… he just didn’t panic yet and would once he returns? Fernando swallows hard. The idea is hard to bear, but not really far-fetched. He cannot even imagine how this must be for Sergio. Although they’ve only known each other for such a short time, he still has the feeling that he knows him better than most of the men he’d been fighting with and that’s scary and beautiful at the same time. Yet, the way he knows Sergio, the things he’s learned about him, Sergio must panic about this at some point. Sergio is loyal, he’s a good man, he believes in the values he’s been taught as a child and Fernando feels a wave of guilt wash over him, because he is the one who’s led Sergio astray. The selfish part of him hopes that Sergio just won’t run quite yet, because he could use another night like the last one, maybe two. Because surely, he’ll have to get back to his group at one point. Maybe he should be heading there already, as his injuries have healed to the point where he could manage the walk. But he couldn’t quite fight yet and he feels somewhat justified in staying here, in this small bubble of peace, staying just that little bit longer until he feels he can fire a gun or run away from one aimed at him. Inside the box, the bird seems to have gone to sleep and Fernando wonders if it felt the same terror, the same fear when he picked it up that he felt when Sergio came to save him. With a sigh he pushes his chair back, heading outside. It’s a stupid war, a faceless form of terror that’s ruined his life, his plans, his dreams. A doctor, he was going to study to become a doctor. Fernando huffs, his real profession couldn’t have ended much further from what he’s aspired.

With things being the way they are now, there is something comforting about the war, Fernando thinks, stepping outside and lighting a cigarette. As long as it’s there and the battles go on, Fernando has somewhere he belongs and a place to go to once he has to end his stay with the shepherd. Without the war, he wouldn’t have anything left. There’s no place to go back to, no home awaiting him. His parents won’t even consider him their son after he changed sides. And Olalla… sweet, innocent Olalla… he’d never impose his horror on her or expose her to the threats she sure would fall under once she’d be with him, the traitor. He hopes she isn’t already being subjected to bad treatment because of his decisions. Without a doubt, word of his ‘disgrace’ must have reached home, probably the military put his family under surveillance to find him. And he’s pretty sure Olalla will have found someone else. Or at least, he truly hopes for her that she did, someone who really loves her the way she deserves. And that’s not Fernando, never has been. After all, neither of them chose the other. Their parents decided for them and that was it. They got along and eventually started to care about each other, which is more than he expected and they certainly shared good times, but they never had passion, they never loved each other and if Fernando hadn’t known that before, he’d know it now that he’s been with Sergio. _Someday, somewhere – anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life._

And Fernando knows he should feel guilty about his own betrayal, but somehow he doesn’t. Like he buried that part of himself along with his wedding band and his dog tags, during that same rainy night where ran away from his camp, where he burned his uniform and letters. He remembers the place, he has the distant dream of that day where peace comes and he retrieves the tiny metal box with his tags and the ring, but he knows that even getting the material things back, won’t get him his old life back. The one thing he never really gets over is not seeing his kids anymore, not finding out how they’ll end up, not knowing what they’ll be told about their father and his sins. It hurts, terribly so, but over the years of the war, Fernando has learned to keep that dark little compartment of his soul closed tightly. So he stares into the bright sky, wonders how long Sergio’s trip will take and allows the memories from the last night to flood his mind again.

***

It’s past noon when he can finally see the sheep and the cabin again. One of the dogs, the youngest actually, runs up to him, greeting him with a friendly waving of his tail. Sergio pets its head and they make the last meters together. It’s ridiculous, the way his heart is pounding and his hands are sweaty. He’s nervous to return to his own place and it’s all because of Fernando, all because of the wrecked fighter awaiting him. The man with the most beautiful eyes Sergio has ever seen and still it’s completely ridiculous, the whole tension and anticipation. A small part of him shakes with fear, because he doesn’t know how he’d deal with finding the inside of the hut empty. One hand on the handle he stops in his tracks, the dog running back to the others already. Sergio takes a deep breath and hopes and prays with all his power that Fernando will still be there. “Fernando? I’m back, I’m coming in now.”

He’s not disappointed and the sight of Fernando, standing across from the door with a nervous smile, it makes Sergio’s heart jump and, as cheesy as it sounds, it actually makes butterflies flutter in his stomach. For an instant, Sergio squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching and heart constricting, because this is taking him all of his courage, all the strength that he can muster. _Love does no harm to its neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law._ (Romans 13:10). With a small, determined nod he locks eyes with Fernando, seeing how Fernando realizes what Sergio just decided, seeing how the realization makes Fernando’s eyes darken beautifully. Sergio drops his backpack carelessly and closes the distance between them, eagerly, hungrily, desperately, before their mouths smash against each other’s with unprecedented force and passion.

Sergio groans and pants into the kiss, he’s steadying himself on Fernando’s grips and, although he wouldn’t have thought it was possible, everything feels even better than the night before. The fighter’s fingers are clenching in his hair, keeping his head in place and Fernando has shifted his hips at just the right angle, their crotches already touching, their bulges obvious even though separated through several layers off fabric. The friction is good, but not enough. Nothing ever seems enough with Fernando. When Fernando’s tongue traces a line along his jaw and he then begins to nibble on Sergio’s earlobe, the shepherd’s fingers impatiently start tugging on whatever fabric they can reach. Fernando soon follows his example and together they manage to wind up both completely naked, skin on skin, tumbling into the small bed without the least bit of hesitation. There’s only the sound of their heavy breathing in the room while they rub against each other and this time, Sergio doesn’t even spare a thought for Fernando’s injuries. He’s just too greedy, too hungry, too starved for this. And he wouldn’t even call it passionate, it’s simply despair that guides them, brings them closer to the edge at an embarrassing speed. He comes with an unmanly, choked whimper and tears in his eyes, quick to close them and hide from Fernando who follows with a small cry and then curls up next to him with a pained groan. When Sergio opens his eyes after a moment, breathing calmed just about enough, Fernando’s chest is heaving regularly and he looks asleep, face the usual relaxed beauty when the fighter finally lets go, making him look so painfully young. Sergio leans down and presses a kiss to his hair and then untangles from Fernando and the blanket, haphazardly putting his clothes back on. Coffee. He should really fix them some coffee, now that he got some from the farm. Cost him a fortune, totally unnecessary luxury, but he felt it was about deserved, if not for himself, then at least for Fernando.

Before he gets started with making coffee and dinner, he takes a moment to sit at the table and, with surprise, he stares at the bird he finds there. A ragged little lark, wing fixed expertly. Sergio sighs, sadness washing over him while he watches the little one that is looking right back at him, eyeing him curiously. It shouldn’t be in captivity, it shouldn’t be in pain. It should be free and fit and doing what it was born to do. With a weary sigh, his eyes wander to Fernando’s sleeping figure, his stomach clenching uncomfortably again. Of course he knows that Fernando will have to go back. Deep down, Sergio knows. And at the end of the summer, Sergio will have to go back, too. Sure, theoretically, he could join the guerilla troops, too. He wouldn’t be the first desperate, poor farmer taking that path. By far not. But Sergio is different than the courageous and brave men he saw choosing that lifestyle and in the end, Sergio wouldn’t and couldn’t let down his family. His father cannot sustain the herd anymore; his son is far, far from being of any help. His brother has his own family to get through. And Sergio lacks the recklessness to leave them to themselves. As usual, there simply are no options, no choices.

***

He hears and feels Sergio get up, but he prefers pretending to be asleep, prefers not finding out quite yet how Sergio feels about this. About _them_. And Fernando is sure that goes both ways, because aside from passion-driven, senseless rambling, neither of them has spoken a single word since Sergio came back. Still, as it’s not just happened once and not just happened under the influence of wine and other drinks, they won’t be able to ignore it forever. And maybe, Fernando thinks, maybe he should make this easier for both of them and get going. He could have Sergio change his dressings once more and then take some painkillers with him, the rest he could well deal with. His ribs would heal and so would his skin. Swallowing down a lump in his throat, he vows to himself that the next day would be his last in this hut, that he’d finally be strong enough to end this, before they get carried away even more, before they lose themselves too much in an idea that’s bound to go wrong. 

Fernando buries his head in the pillow, denying to himself that there are hot tears sinking into the fabric. With his eyes squeezed shut, he listens to Sergio’s whereabouts, hears him chop something and light the fire again, hears the sound of someone cooking. Even with his eyes closed he notices the light fading, the night crawling upon them again and maybe it shouldn’t be this way, but Fernando feels oddly safe and peaceful, huddled up under the blanket, hearing the sound of some easy domesticity, the smell of Sergio cooking for them and if Fernando’s not mistaken, there’s a scent of coffee lingering in the air. He’s torn between sheer joy about being right here right now and the unpleasant twisting in his guts, the uncomfortable knowledge how fragile and terminated all of this is. With a deep sigh, he starts untangling from the blanket, knowing he’ll have to face things and determined to enjoy this just a tiny bit more while he still can. He slides into a pair of Sergio’s sweatpants and walks up behind the shepherd, hugging him closely, nose buried in the long black hair. A small sigh escapes Sergio’s mouth and Fernando feels him shudder under his touch.

Outside, he hears the tell-tale droning of the planes, preparing their nightly attacks on the city, unwelcome reminder of the inevitable.

_…love is just not enough, out in this war of needs_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Dotan  
> Fernando quotes Pablo Neruda  
> Sergio quotes Romans 13:10


	15. Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this has taken forever again. It's difficult with me and this story sometimes, I know where I want it to go, but it's hard to put into words?! Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy ♥
> 
> And thank you for the wonderful feedback! It's so, so appreciated! ♥

When he gets up, it’s the scent of coffee is filling the room and Sergio is sitting at the table, absentmindedly staring at the bird. Fernando blushes, realizing how stupid it must seem that he kept it and tried to save it. Without a word and with a lump in his throat, he sits at the table across from the shepherd who looks up to meet his gaze.

”You did a good job with that wing.”

Fernando blinks, a little confused, not having expected that reaction.

”Uh – I hope? I –“ he sighs, wishes he could explain or put into words why he even tried, “I couldn’t leave it there by itself. It’s ridiculous, you know? I mean, I’ve killed people with my bare hands but I couldn’t bring myself to break it’s neck and instead I’m probably only torturing it here.”

”I’m serious,” Sergio says, looking at him with those innocent, genuine eyes that always melt Fernando’s heart, “really. You fixed it well, I’m sure it’ll heal and in about a week, it’ll be flying away.”

They sit in silence for a moment, both looking at the little creature that seems to be resting and it’s actually, to Fernando’s surprise, looking at ease with the situation. Not nervous or panicked about being trapped. He sees that Sergio has fed it and put water inside and eventually he looks up and searches for the shepherd’s gaze.

”You know, it’s not ridiculous,” the other says, looking down again. His hand reaches over the table covering Fernando’s and the fighter holds his breath, Sergio reaching out for him so openly still a new, overwhelming experience. “Last year, wolves attacked the flock and they killed a few sheep,” Sergio continues after a while, thumb rubbing over the skin of Fernando’s wrists where the bruises and marks are slowly fading, “I cried when I saw it. Cried like a child. I mean, I kill sheep with my own hands when we need the food, but that still made me cry, because it’s been unnecessary, because it shouldn’t have been their time yet. So no, I don’t think there’s anything ridiculous about it. The bird deserves its second chance.”

They don’t speak while they finish their coffee and have some of the fresh bread Sergio brought along from the farm, but Sergio’s hand never leaves his and the ministrations never stop. The delicate touches make all the hair in Fernando’s neck stand up and send shivers down his spine. If he could stay here, with the shepherd, for the rest of their lives, Fernando thinks he’d be the happiest man in the world. He doesn’t think there’s anything about life in the city he’d miss, not if he’d get this in exchange. His eyes stay glued to Sergio’s face, the tan skin, the evening stubble on his cheeks, the long black streaks framing it beautifully. Fernando bites his lip, feeling overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions because everything is so beautiful now and he still knows he’ll have to leave it behind so soon.

***

”Cigarette?” Sergio asks eventually, light outside fading already and Fernando nods. 

They take their usual spots, backs against the wall of the hut, shoulders touching, both of them facing the mountains. Once they’re settled, he feels Fernando’s hand on his, feels the other lacing their fingers and out of reflex, he drops his head on the other’s shoulder.

”You’ll have to go back eventually, right?” He knows his voice is shaky and a few days ago, he’d been embarrassed by the childish neediness he feels. Now, he just wants to hear Fernando deny it, wants him to say that he could stay forever. Between them, he feels the fighter squeeze his hand.

”I don’t want to go,” Fernando says after a long time and Sergio leans up, tries to read his face and finds him staring at a distant point in the mountains, “I really don’t want to leave. But yes, I’ll have to go.”

It’s strange how much something that he’d always known about could hurt, how much it could shatter his heart, just because it’s been said out loud now. And Sergio feels stupid, but he can’t help it, there’s a few stray tears, slowly rolling down his cheeks.

”No, don’t…” Fernando’s voice sounds as broken as he feels and it takes him more self-restraint than it should to stop himself from burying himself in Fernando’s hold, sobbing into his shirt. “Sese, don’t cry. Please.”

Sergio doesn’t even know what makes his heart clench more, the fragile begging in Fernando’s voice or the fact that the fighter used his childhood nickname. For what it’s worth, he bites down on his bottom lip sharply, not wanting to wail like a child.

Fernando moves to straddle his lap, fingers running through his hair, tugging the streaks behind his ears and Sergio shudders. He shudders even more, when Fernando’s fingertips run over his cheeks, tracing the wet lines the tears left behind and then, Sergio’s eyes closing on instinct, his head dropping back against the wall, Fernando kisses along the stains, lips tracing the same way that the droplets took on their way down. Sergio doesn’t think that anyone has ever taken care of him quite like this, with so much love, affection, patience.

He wraps his arms around the other, urging him closer and he loses himself in the way they’re sitting there. Sergio can feel Fernando’s heartbeat against his own chest now, feels Fernando’s fingers back in his hair again, gently running over his scalp. If it helps his cause, he’ll just never open his eyes again and maybe then this moment can last forever.

Fernando’s lips move along his temple and jawline, leaving little kisses on their way until they latch at the skin of his neck, sucking a small bruise. There’s a small whimper, echoing through the evening air and it takes Sergio a moment to understand that it’s his own.

”If it’s okay with you,” Fernando whispers between his kisses, “we can just pretend that it’s not going to happen, right? We could just push it aside and pretend we have all the time in the world and make the most of what we have.”

”It’s not fair,” he mutters, fingers digging into Fernando’s shirt.

”No,” Fernando says, then kisses his ear again, shivers running down Sergio’s spine, “but life’s not very fair in general. It’s the most we get.”

”I know.” He really does and until recently, he’s always believed in higher plans and destiny and God as a fair judge, but all of that is history, many of his beliefs crumbled because of Fernando’s appearance in his life. “I know. And you’re right. Let’s make something out of it.”

Instead of a reply, Fernando kisses him. Not like they did in the afternoon, not greedy or hungry. Just soft, lips against lips, barely any movement, the fighter’s hands still gently toying with his hair. Like they really had all the time in the world.

_And maybe, just for tonight, we do._

***

They fall into an easy rhythm over the following days, one where they can joke and play around, wrestling on the grass, splashing around in the water. Everything seems light and worriless, the sun fittingly shining down on them every day. Fernando fixes their food, Sergio takes care of the sheep. They smoke together, hold hands a lot, make out anywhere and at any possible time, like they were back to being teenagers.

They talk, too, about life in the city, about Sergio’s grandpa. Their own little families they carefully avoid, just like nobody ever mentions the war. Only the occasional droning of the planes reminds them, but it’s never said out loud. Fernando hasn’t felt this carefree for many years, probably not since his childhood. He assumes it’s the same for Sergio. By now, he’s not even feeling bad about dragging Sergio into _this_ anymore, because the way Sergio laughs now, freely, openly, it says that the shepherd isn’t struggling with this, with them. At least not at the moment, and in the end, that’s all Fernando cares about.

Together, they also take care of the little lark. It seems a bit touch and go on the first day, but afterwards, the little creature seems to be getting better day by day. Stronger. And much like Sergio had predicted, after a week in their care, it seems that the little one is back to its own self.

”We should take the bandage off and try if it flies,” Fernando says softly, staring down into the box and suddenly, his stomach clenches. Because the bird is not the only one who has healed.

”We should,” Sergio repeats with a nod, evading his gaze. The broken voice gives it all away though, lets him that the shepherds _knows_ , too.

The lark doesn’t resist when he fidgets around with its wing and he feels strangely solemn when he carries the box outside, Sergio following him with a hand on his shoulder. Actually, he thinks Sergio’s hands are always somewhere lately, either laced with his or touching his shoulder or running through his hair. Or touching other parts of his body. Fernando blushes over the thought.

They stand in front of the hut, the box with the little bird on the ground and he picks it up, gently sets it down on the grass. They watch it with their fingers laced, Sergio’s head on his shoulder again. And after a few minutes, maybe reacquainting itself with nature, with being outside, it hops a bit and then takes off, a bit clumsily at first, but then flying surprisingly easily. It sings, quickly moving higher and higher until it’s out of their sight.

When he picks the box up and carries it inside, Fernando’s steps are suddenly heavy, all the doubts, problems, struggles back with full force, weighing him down. And this night, they don’t talk. Instead, they empty Sergio’s last bottle of wine, naked, in each other’s hold and under the sheets. Fernando has never had wine in bed before, but for this night, it seems the right thing to do.

They make love this night, slowly, languidly, like during their first encounter. Words of endearment are whispered into the air, gentle fingers trace scars and lines, memorize inch and inch of skin. Fernando revels in Sergio’s smell, basks in his body heat, lets himself be held by these strong arms that so easily carried him when he needed it most. Their ragged breathing and soft moans fill the hut, culminating in both of them panting the other’s name, strangled cries announcing when they stumble over the edge.

***

He wakes up first, Fernando still curled up against his side. Once again, Sergio would love to just wrap himself around the other and sob his heart out, but that wouldn’t help either of them. So, he watches Fernando wake up, one last time, mesmerized by the youthful innocence radiating from the fighter when he’s unguarded like this, eyes slightly puffy, cheeks flushed, hair ruffled. They smile at each other once Fernando has blinked his eyes open, but this morning, the air is heavy between them.

Following their usual routine, they bath together, but there’s no playful splashing of water today. Sergio takes his time to wash Fernando one last time, remembering the first time he did this when the other was still raw and bloody from the assaults on him. He traces the marks and scars, washes over each one, prays and hopes there won’t be any new ones – though he knows better than that, knows where Fernando is heading to. 

Afterwards, he takes care of the sheep and Fernando makes their breakfast. He uses their last coffee and Sergio thinks he’ll never have another coffee after this ever again, for irrational reasons wants this to be the last one, a special one. He eats even though his stomach is twisted, just to have these few more moments with Fernando. And then, when their dishes are cleared, there really is no way to push things off anymore.

This time, Sergio doesn’t restrain himself. This time, he throws himself at Fernando, buries his face in the other’s shirt and cries his heart out, his sobs making his entire body shake in the fighter’s hold. On his back, Fernando’s hands are rubbing circles, helplessly, attempting to comfort, but there’s no use, because Sergio is weeping and wailing. His world seems to be crumbling and stopping and he feels so overwhelmed with despair, as there is no way, or at least he sees no way how his life could ever go on. Not without Fernando.

”I love you, Sese,” the fighter whispers into his ear once he’s finally calm, all his tears and energy drained from his body. And he can tell that the other’s cheeks are damp, too.

”I love you, too,” Sergio says, his voice still shaky.

They part with a final kiss and Fernando doesn’t look back and Sergio doesn’t stay outside, doesn’t watch him walk away towards the sun. He crumbles to the floor of the hut, sobbing uncontrollably, then screaming and raging about the unfairness, the cruelty of a world and God who’d allow this to happen to him, to them. Eventually, he collapses onto his mattress, exhaustion winning the better of him. He almost falls asleep when one of the dogs appears, licking his hand, reminding him of his job. And he resumes his tasks, because that’s what Fernando would do, or what he’s actually doing right now, fulfilling his place in life. Fair or not.

_When you see me_  
_Fly away without you_  
_Shadow on the things you know_  
_Feathers fall around you_  
_And show you the way to go_  
_It’s over, it’s over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Birds_ , Neil Young

**Author's Note:**

> Title song and lyrics: Heroes by David Bowie


End file.
